Laws of Attraction
by verisimilitude9
Summary: A boy and a girl meet in Biology class and don't exactly hit it off right away. Amy isn't anything like the other girls of Zach's acquaintance, and yet he finds himself intrigued. A/Z, AU. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, so here's the start of the Amy/Zach story in the same 'verse as Magnolias In Bloom. Posted today in honour of St. Patrick's Day! Why? Because Zach is Irish :P Moving right along...

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Zachary O'Connor can remember, down to the minute, the start of a new phase in his life.

It was the first day of school of his junior year, and he'd just spent the summer in Europe, living with his father's people in County Galway, Ireland. He'd come home sporting plenty of souvenirs and a rather impressive vocabulary of cuss words in Gaelic compliments of his Uncle Murphy, and would have gone to school with every intention of spending his first period regaling an audience of any number of easily-impressed girls with an account of his vacation (in full Irish brogue for effect) had the malevolent fairy of high school scheduling not played him a mean trick.

His first period was AP Biology, a class taught by a notorious hardass. Sharp-tongued and eagle-eyed, Sophie Adams wore her dead-black hair in a tightly controlled chignon and tortoise-shell cat's eye glasses perched on her aquiline nose. She was clever and knowledgeable, with an excellent success rate of students who passed the exam, but also known by the student body for giving more detentions than all the other science teachers combined. The more embittered of the students in her classes called her Morticia, but never to her face. There were still rumours about what befell the last student to attempt anything of that sort.

Mrs. Adams stood at the head of the class, glasses on nose, arms crossed over her chest, and surveyed every student who walked into the classroom with eyes that could probably shoot lasers. Zach's typical policy with strict female teachers involved turning up the charm, but Adams was a battle axe if there ever was one, and the day was too young to get in trouble and have his brand-spanking-new parking pass revoked. Therefore, he simply shot her a small smile (which was not returned) and proceeded towards a lab table at the far end of the class.

He had almost made it there when one of the cheerleaders, whom he dated briefly and with whom he remained on decent terms, trilled out a greeting. He turned his head to answer her and, in the brief second that he didn't watch where he was going, barreled another student to the ground.

"SHI-- Hell, I'm sorry," Zach called out as the other student's books and papers went everywhere. It was a girl, petite and rather conservatively dressed in boot-cut jeans, a crisp white blouse and ballet flats. He bent down and started gathering up the pile of school supplies surrounding her. "'Twas Megan's fault for calling my name," he told the girl with a get-out-of-trouble grin as he placed her things on the closest table. "Really it was. But I'm sorry anyway. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, thank you," the girl answered, and her tone was cool and modulated and, to his ears, completely indifferent. It raised his hackles enough that he had to take a closer look as he offered her a hand. She calmly stood without his assistance.

Petite, definitely no taller than five-foot-three and delicate-looking with it. She had pale skin, a cap of short hair that was the blue-black of a moonless night sky, and eyes of sapphire blue fringed with inky lashes. Her face was heart-shaped, with soft, unpainted lips and a stubborn chin. He had never seen her before in any of his classes, of that he was sure, but a lady was a lady, and he had never been shy. "So what's your name, honey?"

"Not honey," she answered gravely, so gravely that he might have missed the glint of humour in her eyes. "I'm Amy. And you're Zachy, according to your friend Megan."

The bell signalling the start of class cut off any sort of snarky remark he might have made in return and he could only watch as the girl named Amy took her seat primly in a table at the front of the classroom and quietly pulled out her Biology textbook.

By luck or fate, after Mrs. Adams had gone over her class rules and syllabus in her crisp, no-nonsense voice, she told them that she would assign lab partners at random. "I do not believe in encouraging cliquish behaviour in my classroom, or letting friends fool around together," she said, paying no mind to the groans and eye-rolls. "This is an advanced placement class where academics take priority over socialising. Your partner assignments are arbitrary and final, so you had best learn to work together to ensure that both of you pass the class. You DO NOT want to force me to separate partners, take my word for it." Pausing to let her laser-beam eyes sweep over the faces of her class, she pulled out the attendance list and cleared her throat.

"Amy Anderson, your partner is Zachary O'Connor. Table One." Adams pointed at the table in question with drill sergeant efficiency. Zach gave a c'est la vie shrug towards Megan and made his way towards the indicated table, then raised his eyebrows when he saw the girl with the blue eyes and baffling equanimity take her seat next to him.

"We meet again," Zach remarked, pasting a friendly smile on his face and holding out a hand for her to shake. He kept his voice down as Adams continued barking out lab partner assignments to the rest of the class. "I do apologize again for my earlier clumsiness."

She shook his hand and met his gaze squarely. "I forgive you." She linked her hands over the cover of her textbook. "I suppose you're sorry that you don't get to work with your friend."

"I'm always up for meeting new people as long as they're not idiots," he replied cheerfully. "Don't worry about me."

"Oh, of course not," she answered, and again, he saw the glint of amusement in those big blue eyes. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing. But for what it's worth, I won't drag your grade down."

Perhaps it was her coolness, the way her wry words belied the infallibly courteous and soft-spoken tone of her voice. Perhaps it was the fact that she raised his hackles and he didn't seem to raise hers. Or perhaps it was her eyes, so blue and clear he could see his face reflected in them.

It was then and there that he decided, quite consciously and deliberately, that he'd have to get to her some way or another before the year was out.

It was just a sense of competition, he told himself. He wanted to best her, that was all, since she'd gotten the last word. Twice.

He kept this sentiment to himself as Adams launched full-blast into an introduction to macromolecules and he took down notes along with the rest of the class. Mind still swirling with the differences between polysaccharides and lipids at the end of the lecture, he didn't get to ask Amy any questions as she picked up her things and made her way out of the classroom.

He did notice, though, that she walked towards her next class by herself. She didn't join in any of the small groups of students that lingered in knots at lockers and drinking fountains making idle conversation. Zach watched out of the corner of his eye as she walked away, ballet flats silent on the uncarpeted floor, until she rounded the corner and vanished from view.

He wondered if she was a new student. It was possible, even though she didn't give off lost and clueless new-student vibes. He knew most the people in his grade, but he couldn't place her at all.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: In which other characters appear, including Magnolias In Bloom!Mina, among others. Vague references to that fic also appear in this chapter, but it's not really that big of a deal if you haven't read it (though of course if you did that would be awesome). Thanks to those reading and commenting, as always!

Disclaimer: I shouldn't have to keep repeating myself.

* * *

Other teachers who were not as stringent on the first day of school as Mrs Adams gave Zach plenty of opportunity to catch up with his friends and fool around during classtime, and by lunchtime, the self-contained Miss Amy Anderson was almost out of his mind.

He entered the cafeteria, flirted with the lunch lady, bought a slice of pizza, an order of fries and a fruit cup, and made a beeline for a table were two blonde girls sat chattering a mile a minute. Setting his lunch tray down with a flourish, he wrapped an arm around each. "Blonde One! Blonde Two! Good to see you both!"

The shorter of the two blondes, whose flaxen hair was in pigtails and whose lunch tray held about three times the amount of food of his, giggled. Serena Sterling was a petite, loquacious Thespian and arguably one of his favourite people in the school. "You'll have to stop calling us that, Zach. We aren't the only blondes in this school, you know."

"It's an indirect allusion to classical literature, if you must know," Zach answered in a snooty voice even as he ruffled her hair. "Dr. Seuss was a genius. And... holy hell, Serena, how do you intend to eat all that?"

"You've forgotten about Serena's appetite and metabolism in three short months?" The other blonde, who was taller and more athletic-looking, hair the shade of wheat rather than moonshine, smirked up at him. "Shows what happens when you go to Europe with the express purpose of partaking in exploits which can then be retold with much exaggeration to girls more easily impressed than us."

"Hush, you," Zach mock-glared at her as he took his seat. "Just because I grew up a few doors down from you doesn't mean that you should be divulging all my secrets in public. Some friend you are. Your name should be spelled 'M-E-A-N-A', I think."

"I'm not mean," Mina Atherton shook her head as she dug into her pasta salad. "Who brought over a plateful of Penelope's beignets as soon as you came home, hmm?"

"This is true," Zachary nodded as he dumped an unholy amount of ketchup on his fries and dug in with a fork. "You know I love you, and would gladly marry you and have your babies if it weren't for the fact that I'd feel like I were committing incest."

"I could also do without the mental image of you giving birth," Mina shook her golden head dubiously before smiling cheekily. "So, how have your classes been thus far? Serena and I both have math first period, which kind of sucks, but Miss Lane is supposedly an easy grader, so it could definitely be worse."

It was just then that Zach noticed a familiar head of blue-black hair in the lunch line next to Serena's crush, student body president Darien Shields. "Oh, I have AP Biology first, with an incredibly humourless teacher. Hey, do either of you know who that girl is? Next to Darien."

"Oh yeah, of course," Serena answered around a mouthful of Hostess cupcake. "That's Amy Anderson. She's a sophomore like Mina and I, but like really super-smart. She's in Calculus with Darien, because she tested out of regular math and went straight to Trig last year. We have art together, and she's pretty nice, but not really talkative, you know? Her mom's a doctor, I think."

"She's my lab partner for AP Bio," Zach told them, watching as Amy carefully built a sandwich and counted out the exact change for the lunch lady before the total was even given. Her short hair shimmered even in the harsh fluorescent lighting as she made her way towards a table close to the entrance of the cafeteria, and he frowned as she had a book open next to her lunch tray before she even sat down. "She's actually studying. While eating lunch."

"If I were in AP Bio AND AP Calculus at the tender age of not-yet sixteen, I'd probably study through lunch, too," Mina remarked quietly. "Don't be judgmental. Amy's a nice girl. She once stayed after to help Louise with research for a science project in the library for hours. You know how drama-queen Lou gets about school projects that were left til the last minute, too."

Zach was reserving judgment on his lab partner, but didn't have time to dwell on the issue. Darien walked towards the table, much to Serena's rather squeeful gratification. Before he could get there, however, another less welcome visitor dropped by as well. Dan Burright, slacker and troublemaker, sidled up with a snake-like slither and leered down at Mina.

"Great to see you again, babe."

Mina sighed, but forced a polite smile on her face. "Hello. How was your summer?"

"Boring as hell, but better that than school," Dan answered as he trailed a finger down her bare arm. She flinched. "You're looking good."

"Thanks," Mina stared down at her lunch tray.

"Not gonna say hello to the rest of us?" Zach interjected, meeting the other boy's gaze squarely. "Didn't think so. Why don't you go and smoke that cigarette that we all know you've been craving all day instead of bugging her if you've nothing else to do here?"

Perhaps realising that he'd not get anywhere with Mina that day, Dan Burright slunk off, and Mina shot Zach a grateful look. "My hero. I don't know what his problem is."

"Sure and his heart's lost to ye, lass," Zach quipped with an exaggerated Irish brogue as he tugged on a lock of her hair. "He'd not be the only one who gazes upon thy bonny face and suffers the pangs of unrequited love."

This cheered her up, as was his intention, and she laughed. "Try the accent on someone else, hmm?"

"I'll have ye know that me heart's also sufferin' the pangs of unrequited love," Zach replied, keeping his face straight for only a moment before he laughed as well. "Hey, who knows? One of these days you'll actually find someone who's good for you rather than attracting jerks and losers like the specimen that just left. And then I'll have to watch and laugh as Willie pulls the Big Scary Marine Dad act."

"And someday you'll find a girl who takes absolutely none of your crap and sees beyond the copious amounts of Irish charm and knows that you're really just a big jerk, but doesn't mind," Mina smiled back at him as she lifted her bottle of Vitamin water. "I guess we can always hope. To a good school year and new beginnings, hmm?"

"Cheers," Zach tapped his paper carton of chocolate milk against her drink bottle, and Serena's glass of Coke. "What she said."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: A somewhat short chapter, in which... the protagonists don't completely get along? Oh well. The course of true love never runs smooth, after all.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

A week and a half after the start of the school year found Zach in the library, English Lit syllabus in hand. The teacher for the class was new to the school district this year, hailing from Connecticut, in her late twenties and unmarried, and the amount of homework she assigned did not detract from the consensus between the male students that the calm and sophisticated Miss Eastman was the token babe of the English department.

Zach had no problems with this. He could think of plenty of worse fates than typing up papers on Beowulf on the whim of a sternly pretty brunette in pinstripes. Furthermore, as his own mother was a member of the English department of his high school, he'd rather his classmates' focus be on someone else. Not that anyone past the age of ten should harbour any teacher crushes anyway. It had been a traumatizing experience to overhear Matt Cadwell talk about his mother's legs in the locker room after swim team practice last year, and the incident had almost caused him a suspension.

"This blows," Megan said loudly at the table where she was sitting with him. "I don't want to read anything more about macho men ripping arms off monsters. I don't get what's so great about this crap, or how the hell we're supposed to write five pages on it. Eastman's a bitch."

"Eastman's all right," Zach defended the English teacher from behind a copy of Norton's Anthology of English Literature.

"You just say that because she dresses well," Megan shook her mane of glossy honey-brown curls. "But I guess she's better than Morticia. Oh my God, what possessed me to take an AP class this year? I'm a junior. I have plenty of time to impress college people next year. My lab partner's a total weirdo dork named Melvin who wears THE thickest glasses I've ever seen. Seriously, he needs to get contacts or something. If that'd help. I don't know why Adams is such a fucking control freak."

The sound of a throat clearing had Zach looking up from his book, and into a pair of cool, intelligent blue eyes. Amy Anderson wore a name tag on her blouse, a knee-length white skirt, and her expression was one of subtle disapproval. "If it's all right with you two, could you keep it down a bit? There are people trying to study here in the library."

"Why don't you just go and mind your own business?" Megan demanded with a glare. "We're not bothering you or anything. So run along and go back to finding a cure for cancer or whatever."

"It's my business that your social hour is disrupting others," Amy met the other girl's glare with a look of tolerant patience and a voice so frosty that the chill vibrated along Zach's skin. "It's my shift, and you're within earshot of the children's section. I'd rather not have little kids listen to you using profanity to describe your teachers."

"Go shelve some books if you've got nothing better to do!" Megan snapped, leaping to her feet. She towered over Amy by a few inches, but the other girl met her gaze without flinching. "What's your problem?"

"At the present moment? The volume of your voice," Amy said evenly. "It's an easy one to rectify, so if you please, just go back to your work. There's a great book of literary criticism on epic heroes compiled by Stuart Verlaine over on the shelf to your right, with two essays on Beowulf. The sooner you finish your research, you know, the sooner you'll be done with your paper." She turned on her heel and walked off before either Megan or Zach could reply.

"That SNOTTY little...!" Megan hissed, glaring at Amy's back. "Ooh, I can't believe her nerve! Lecturing us like she's some sort of high-and-mighty princess or something! Why, I should..."

"Hey, just let it go for now, hmm?" Zach said placatingly. "I'm not looking to get kicked out, and the paper is due tomorrow, so..."

It took another five minutes or so before Megan would let herself be calmed down, and then another three hours of frenetic research and even more frenetic typing before the paper was finished. Megan left earlier than he did, claiming exhaustion and a determination to finish the last of the paper early in the morning instead, and he made his way towards the exit by himself.

Amy was manning the checkout counter, but didn't have any customers at the moment. A mild-mannered boy with a preppy mop of medium brown hair was talking to her, a smile that bespoke admiration clear on his face, and Zach walked in on the tail end of their conversation.

"Yes, Greg, my mom's probably working late again. Subway's walking distance, though. We can make a quick stop after I'm done here, all right?" Amy's voice was far warmer than it had ever been directed towards him as she smiled faintly at the other boy, and Zach narrowed his eyes.

"Well, well, aren't you the hypocrite?" he drawled as he approached her desk. Amy raised an eyebrow, and he could all but see the cool standoffishness fall back in place.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're here scheduling dates on the clock after scolding Megan and myself about being productive in the library," Zach said sardonically. "Do as I say, not as I do?"

Greg only looked bewildered, but Amy raised her chin. "If you must know, this is Gregor Schoenherr, and he is a German foreign exchange student who's being hosted at my house. My mom's working late, so we were making plans for dinner, since neither of us have eaten yet. Furthermore, I never lectured you on your productivity. How much work you get done for your English class is your business. It's simply the fact that your friend was being loud and swearing about teachers in an area where not only other people were trying to study, but is in earshot of the children's section. Believe it or not, parents do get mad about that type of thing, and then they yell at ME because of it. Now, do you have anything to check out?"

Because he didn't, and because this new information made him feel slightly like an ass, he simply shook his head. He would have apologized, but a mother carrying a stack of picture books in one hand and holding onto a tow-haired kindergartner with the other, made her way to the checkout counter. Amy composed herself in the blink of an eye and gave Zach a cool look. "I'll see you in Biology tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," he mumbled, and made his way out of the library. He drove home in a state of bafflement: never before, in his memory, had he ever jumped to conclusions worthy of a jealous boyfriend and picked a fight with a girl he barely knew... in the library, of all places!

There was just something about her.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Happy Easter to those who celebrate it! Not much else to say here, moving right along...

Disclaimer: The same as always.

* * *

The next morning found Zach in class somewhat earlier than his usual minute-and-a-half-before-the-bell. He hated eating crow, but he considered himself a reasonable man. Picking a fight with a girl a year younger, forty pounds lighter and more than half a foot shorter was bad form, especially when said girl did have a somewhat logical explanation for her behaviour. He wasn't sure whether or not Amy Anderson was the type who held grudges or acted catty in the peculiar way of teenage girls in the face of real or perceived slights from their male peers, but he could at least try to make amends.

After all, if she persisted in sulking after he apologised, the fault would be on her and not him, and then he could effectively dismiss her as a vindictive wretch unworthy of his time. Then, he was sure, she would not continue to get to him.

Amy was early, as was her custom, and already seated at their lab table in the classroom. In this setting, her toes not touching the ground from the height of the lab stool, her eyes fixed upon a neat page of notes, she looked more fragile, more approachable somehow. She didn't look up when he walked in, and he came up behind her silently. Reaching out, he placed both hands over her eyes and grinned when she jumped.

"Guess who?"

"Zachary," Her voice was all dignity and she reached up to wrap her hands around his wrists. "I recognize your voice. Could you please move your hands?"

He fancied that he could feel the brush of her eyelashes against his palms, a feathery tickle. "All right, as you wish." He moved his hands back down to his sides and she turned her head to give him a quizzical look. Nothing in her expression gave any indication that their previous altercation had taken place at all. "Good morning. How're you?"

"I'm all right," she answered, turning back to her notes. "Yourself?"

"Okay," he shrugged as he set down his book bag. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"What for?" she asked without looking up, and he wondered for a moment if she cared at all. But there was a faint, telltale flush in her cheekbones, and oddly it gave him courage.

"Jumping to conclusions at the library and picking a fight," he answered honestly. "It's not my usual style. I'm a nice guy, honest. Ask anyone."

She glanced up then, and there was a glimmer of humour in those big blue eyes. "Is that so? Your friend Megan certainly seems fond of you, but I don't think I'll ask her."

"Megan and I went out a few times, and she's still friends with me," Zach shrugged vaguely. "I mean, that says something, right? Most guys don't talk to girls again after they break up and stuff."

"I suppose, statistically, that is true," Amy answered gravely. "You're quite the gentleman to remain on good terms with her like that."

He wasn't sure if she meant that statement facetiously, but decided on another tack, and shamelessly employed an irresistible woebegone expression. "Well, anyway, truce? I don't create haters as a rule, particularly not among the fairer sex. It would make me feel bad if you started making voodoo dolls of me and stuff. And we still have to work together."

She stared at him for a few moments, and he was sure that she didn't buy it at all, but then she smiled, and his jaw almost dropped. She didn't have dimples and a smile that flashed quick and bright like Mina's, but her lips curved slowly and gently, her eyes visibly softened. It was subtle and bewitching, like watching the play of light on water. He had to jerk himself back to reality as she proffered a hand.

"All right, truce. And for the record, I don't make voodoo dolls or partake in any other forms of arcane ill will."

"That's good," he shook her hand and held it for a moment. The smile was but a memory now, and he relaxed as he sat down. "So, can I copy your homework?" Her affronted expression had him laughing. "Kidding, kidding. I was good, homework was done. My mother teaches here, you know. She'd have my hide for a stunt like that, and she's not one to mess with."

Amy nodded, but didn't say anything in response, and other students started filing in. Megan shot her a brief, venomous glare that she ignored. Mrs. Adams, severe bun of hair so smooth and hard that it looked sculpted, swept into the classroom three minutes before the bell and started marking attendance. Even as the bell rang, she barked out a directive to put away books and notes over the din.

The teacher ignored the groans that greeted this order and marched up and down rows of lab tables armed with a sheaf of papers. "Those of you who have been keeping up with your studies should be well-prepared for a little pop quiz. Because this is the first pop quiz of the year, there will be a curve: the student with the highest score will get his or her mark raised up to 100, and everyone else's marks shall be increased by the same margin. This is the only time I will add points that you have not earned to your scores, so those who don't do so well here had better study harder."

Zach glanced over at the single sheet of Xeroxed paper handed to him, and frowned. The questions weren't difficult, per se, but they were certainly not simple either. He couldn't for the life of him remember the chemical structure of a Cellulose molecule, and forgot a few of the finer points of protein denaturing and renaturing, but when he finished the quiz half an hour later, he knew that he'd at least passed.

Amy, however, had turned in her paper a good ten minutes before him, after filling it out without much apparent effort.

He wasn't too surprised, therefore, when a day later, Mrs. Adams announced grimly to the class that the curve was a mere two points, her laser-beam eyes focused on Amy's face as damningly as if she'd pointed. Zach congratulated his lab partner on her score, satisfied with his own B+, and she shrugged as though it weren't really a big deal.

"Ugh, fuck my life," Megan's voice could be heard all the way down the hall when they left the classroom that day. "I hate people who kill grade curves. It's like they think they have something to prove. All it means is that they've got nothing better to do with their lives than nose up in books and kiss ass with teachers all day long."

Zach, who overheard the comment, snuck a glance at Amy, oddly worried, but the girl simply walked past Megan with an indifferent look on her face. Glancing back over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow and curved her lips in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was cool and bland as bottled water.

"Oh, of course not. We collect pocket protectors and memorise encyclopedias too. And that's when we're not mocking, like, those who are like, totally too obsessed with VH1 and Abercrombie and Fitch to formulate, like, original insults."

She was down the hall and around the corner before the outraged Megan could even think to respond.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A bit more backstory and development in this chapter, so it's a tiny bit longer than the last few. That's a good thing, right? Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing, and I hope y'all are enjoying the story so far! This one's going to be rather longer than Magnolias In Bloom for the simple fact that it's going to span an entire school year than just a summer vacation, and also Amy's a bit more reserved and wary of relationships than Mina :P

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

The following Monday started off like any other day. Zach arrived at his biology class bleary-eyed and desperately wishing that Mrs. Adams would permit such perfectly reasonable necessities as coffee in her classroom. He shot a thinly veiled look of envy at Amy through his lashes: why was it that she always came in looking perfectly well-rested, perfectly composed? It made him wonder sometimes, because no one was calm all the time, and he was sure that he'd spend more class time trying to figure out what made her tick if it weren't for the fact that the teacher ran the class like a Spartan military operation.

They worked quietly together on creating a study guide for the chapter which would be turned in for a grade, and she kept mostly silent as they went over their notes. He wasn't alert enough to be sure, but he thought that she was a tad more taciturn than usual that day, almost as though something was on her mind, but it wasn't his place to ask.

They had a big test coming up Friday, though, and perhaps she was thinking about that. Adams' exams were reputed to be killers, and he'd figured out by then that Amy was a bit of an overachiever. He didn't have a problem with that, because she wasn't difficult to work with in class, and unlike some other smart kids, didn't particularly flaunt her intelligence or hit everyone in the face with her grades.

At the end of class when they were walking out the door, he was just wondering if he should ask her whether she wanted to study for the test together sometime that week when Gregor Schoenherr made an appearance, slightly out of breath as though he'd just run from the other end of the school building. The German boy wore a smile and held a bouquet of pink carnations. Zach raised an eyebrow as Greg made a beeline towards Amy.

"Happy birthday," the brown-haired boy said in warmly spoken if accented English, and handed her the flowers graciously. "I am hoping that you will have a wonderful year. You have been a good friend and hostess."

Amy blinked, and her pale cheeks reddened. "Oh, thank you, Greg. I'm glad you think so, and I consider you a friend as well. Er, where did you get the flowers?"

"Oh, it is Fraulein Madison, who teaches the Environmental science and the Botany, she is always growing flowers in her classroom. She sells sometimes to raise money for extra school supplies. I run after the end of first hour and buy from her, now to give to you," Greg answered. "Do you like?"

"I do," Amy smiled at him, and Zach could all but see the foreign exchange student turn into mush inside. "Thank you very much."

"I let you go now, so you'll not be late to class," Greg told her. "See you this afternoon."

She nodded and watched him walk down the hall, rearranging her books in her arms so that she didn't drop the flowers, and didn't notice Zach still standing there.

"Hey, it's your birthday today?" he asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's not a big deal," Amy shrugged, the candy-pink edges of carnation petals visible over the top of the book she held. "I don't do much to celebrate it, and we're still in school anyway."

"So? I would have wished you a happy birthday, you know," he told her with a shake of his head. "I might not have baked you a cake or anything, as I don't hate you or want you to die, but still!"

She laughed softly at that. "I appreciate it, Zach. I guess I'm pretty low-key about celebrating my birthday and not used to publicising it. I didn't know that Greg would go and get me flowers like that."

He didn't express his opinion that she should have known, because the boy was so obviously infatuated that if he were a cartoon, his eyes would be replaced by pulsating red hearts. Instead, he reached out and ruffled her hair since she had her hands full and obviously couldn't retaliate. "So, how old are you now?"

"Sixteen," she answered, moving her head out of the way of his hands. "Well, thanks. I have to go to class, though. I'll see you later, I guess?"

"Sure thing, honey,"

"My name is not honey," she called, not looking back as she made her way down the hall, and he found himself chuckling. Then he saw a sheet of paper on the ground where she had been standing, and stooped to pick it up.

It was a postcard of the Little Mermaid sculpture in Denmark, likely fallen out of a book or something when she was rearranging her things. Curiously, he flipped it over. It was post-marked about two weeks ago, her name and address written in ordinary blue ballpoint pen.

The message was brief. "Happy birthday, princess! I wish you all the best, and am thinking of you." It was impersonal, something which could have been printed on any birthday card found in any drugstore. At the bottom though, signed with a flourish, was the word "Dad".

Frowning, Zach stuck the postcard in his Biology book. Amy was long-gone, and he had about fifty seconds to get to his next class. Sprinting down the hall, he made a mental note to ask her about it the next time he saw her.

Zach made a point to get to school early enough to get a hold of his lab partner early Tuesday morning, and arrived at Adams' classroom with almost fifteen minutes to spare. For once, he was earlier than her, and when she did show up, the first thing that he noticed was that her hair was damp.

"Hello, Zach," she greeted him calmly as she walked into the classroom. "You're rather early today."

"So are you," he answered with a smile. "You're always here so early."

"I suppose," she murmured, walking over and setting down her book bag. "What brings you here at this hour today? I know you drive, so you don't have to be up in time for the school bus and such."

"Oh, I wanted to talk to you," he said with a cheeky grin. "You know, it's something I don't do enough of. I'm trying to rectify that situation, particularly since it was your birthday and I didn't even know and we're lab partners and someone else brought you flowers, which makes me feel like a scrub. I got something for you, though. Kind of."

At her quizzical look, he picked something up from the empty lab stool next to his and handed it to her. It looked like an extremely long straw, and she raised an eyebrow as she read the label. "A giant pixie stick?" she asked with a laugh.

"Hey, as I said, I don't know you that well, and someone already gave you flowers, and chocolate's cliched. Besides, this kid was selling them at a street corner for his middle school's marching band. How could I resist?"

"Thanks," she smiled then, and he kept his eyes on her face again, memorising the way her lips curved slowly and her eyes warmed. "I should tell you that you didn't have to."

"I already know that," he said dismissively. "Oh, by the way, you dropped this yesterday when your German admirer brought you your flowers." Reaching into his biology textbook, he handed her the postcard, and then watched as she visibly shut down her emotions, smile vanishing like mist in the sun, cool and brittle composure coming over her like a cloak.

"Thanks for picking it up," her tone was polite and impersonal as she accepted it. "I was wondering where it had gone."

"Your dad sent that to you, I take it?" he asked, wondering what she was feeling. Shields were there, usually, to protect weak spots and wounds from further injury. "I'm not trying to pry. It landed face-up."

"Yes, he sent it. I guess he's in Denmark these days," she murmured as she carefully placed it in her book bag. "He seems to be well."

He didn't say anything, and perhaps it was that which made her offer more information. "My parents are divorced. My dad's an artist by the name of Claude Anderson-- don't know if you've heard of him or not-- and he's got a terminal case of wanderlust. I've not seen him since I was eight, but he usually writes me around the time of my birthday. He used to send me actual paintings he did, but now it's postcards."

This bit of information was told in a calm, straightforward way, almost as though she were discussing the details of some biology assignment, but she didn't meet his eyes, which let Zach know how deeply she was affected by it. He'd heard of Claude Anderson, a fantasy artist whose work was commercially successful and technically adept if not particularly original or innovative, but not once would he have associated a man whose postage-stamp-sized photographs appeared on the back of graphic novels and fantasy art calendars at bookstores with his quiet, earnest lab partner. He wasn't quite sure of what to say, or how to react to the situation, but she changed the subject before he could respond.

"Well, thanks for bringing that back to me, and for the giant pixie stick." She took a deep breath, and when she looked up, calm politeness in place as usual, Zach knew that he'd never be deceived by it again. "Are you ready for the test this Friday?"

"Just about," he answered, and followed an impulse. "Want to study for it together sometime this week?"

She mulled it over for a moment as though coming to a decision, and nodded, and he knew then that she had let him in. "All right. When would be good for you?"

"Tomorrow after school okay with you? I've Debate team today."

He had the pleasure of seeing her smile at him twice in the course of a quarter of an hour as she nodded. "Tomorrow's fine."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here's chapter six! Hopefully it is to everyone's satisfaction! Thanks to those who reviewed, I'm really glad to hear from you!

Disclaimer: What do you think?

* * *

They had agreed to meet at the entrance of the school after the last class of the day, and when Zach got there after escaping the clutches of his overly loquacious Spanish teacher, Amy was waiting, involved in casual conversation with Greg Schoenherr.

"You will do well on test, I know," Greg was saying even as Zach walked up to them. Amy smiled faintly at the boy, and Zach wondered how she could be so oblivious to the way the fellow's eyes all but glazed over.

"Thanks. I hope so. Do you need my mom to pick you up after International Club?"

"I will be all right," Greg reassured her. "Betsy Feldman, she is in my English class and also in the International Club, she is being driven home by her brother Andy, and she has offered to have Andy drive me as well."

Amy nodded. "All right. I guess I'll see you later then. Hello, Zach."

"Good afternoon," Zach replied, watching as the foreign exchange student ambled off. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, I am," she said, giving him a nod of thanks as he pushed open the door and let her pass before him. "How was your day today?"

"All right, all in all," he answered as they made their way towards the parking lot. "I'm sorry I was a little bit late, my Spanish teacher was talking everyone's ears off about Pablo Neruda's poetry."

"You weren't really late. I'm just terminally early, I'm afraid. It's a habit that I get from my mom, I believe. And I'm not too familiar with Neruda's poetry?"

"No te quiero sino porque te quiero, y de quererte a no quererte llego, y de esperarte cuando no te espero, pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego," Zach quoted glibly, and grinned at her bemused expression even as he led her towards his car. "I'm actually supposed to memorize the rest of that one by Monday so that I can recite it in class and stuff."

"What's it mean?" Amy asked.

They paused at a secondhand red Honda Civic with the a blue tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror and an extensive collection of bumper stickers adorning the rear, and Zach pulled out a sheet of paper from one of his binders. "Hmmm... 'I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, from waiting to not waiting for you. My heart moves from cold to fire.'" He handed the sheet of paper to her so that she could read the whole translation even as he dug around for his car keys.

"Mm, nice," Amy murmured, and through the driver's side mirror, he could see a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and stifled a grin as she primly folded the sheet of paper back up and turned her attention towards the bumper stickers decorating his car. "You've quite a collection of stickers. Most of them not very friendly. 'I piss off stupid people'. 'Give me more coffee so that I can do more dumb things faster and with more energy'. 'Smart girls are sexy.'"

"All true, though," he quipped. "Here, hop in." In preparation for the fact that he'd actually be driving someone in his car that day, he'd spent about five minutes in the morning cleaning out a few handfuls of miscellaneous taco wrappers and empty drink cups that had littered the floor on the passenger side.

Amy shook her head wryly, but did as she was told. He got in next to her, and pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the street, driving the few blocks that would lead to the local library. Because he had a lady passenger, a rather demure one at that, he forewent the usual blasting of the alternative rock station at full volume and jamming along with System of a Down, and they arrived at the library about five minutes later.

Amy greeted the matronly woman manning the circulation desk and made her way towards the tables in the back, and he followed one step behind her, noticing randomly that the legs visible underneath the hem of the plain blue knee-length skirt were slim and strong. Said legs disappeared from view, however, after she selected a table, set her books down, and took a seat. He sat down across from her and pulled out his biology notebook, brought his focus back to business, and they got to work.

About two hours later, Zach was sure that he'd do well on the test, and equally sure that if Adams were to do a grade curve again, Amy would kill this one too. He watched as she meticulously put her papers back in order in her colour-coded three-ring binder with an intrinsic sense of organisation, and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked as she looked up with a bewildered expression, and his smile grew.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking... oh, hey, do you know that your German friend is totally in love with you?" Okay, so that wasn't exactly what he was thinking, but it was something kind of painfully obvious to him, and she'd not seemed to have done anything about it.

Amy frowned and shook her head. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. Greg's quite nice, but he's never said anything to that effect. Anyway, he's only just known me for a few months."

"Enough to drown in those big blue eyes, honey," Zach told her. "It doesn't take long for that."

"Well, I doubt that I fit the image of the typical heartbreaker," Amy shook her head and bent her face over her book bag. "He's not mentioned it to me, anyway."

"Don't be surprised if he does," Zach felt as though he were giving her a warning, for some odd reason. "And maybe he doesn't go for typical heartbreakers. Non-typical heartbreakers such as yourself could wreak a whole lot of havoc on the masculine balance of mind, you know."

"That's an oxymoron right there," Amy said dryly. "I hope he doesn't feel that way, like you think. You're probably reading too much into it."

Zach kept any further opinions and comments to himself as they walked towards the library entrance, and then both of them paused as they reached the outer doors. Outside, though it had been sunny just a few hours ago, it was raining steadily. Unceremoniously, he dug out his keys and handed her his books.

"I'll make a run for it and pull the Bratmobile up to the curb," he told her before dashing out towards the parking lot, sandy-blond curls flying.

His hair was just a little bit wet and bedraggled when he pulled up, and maybe that was why she smiled as she got in. "Thank you for giving me a ride home," she told him softly.

"Not a problem," he answered as the windshield wipers flicked furiously back and forth in front of their faces. "You're wearing a white shirt. It'd have been see-through if you'd walked for more than five minutes in this stuff."

Her cheeks flushed crimson and she turned her face away, and he tried not to grin. "I'm just saying. Anyway, where do you live?"

She gave him directions, and he pulled into a nice, upscale neighbourhood. Cruising slowly down the quiet streets, he stopped when indicated in front of a large, luxurious house, one of those striking modern affairs that had entire walls of windows. The lawns and gardens were neatly and professionally landscaped, the grass so smoothly cut and green that it looked like emerald velvet in the blurriness of rain. Staring unabashedly, Zach pulled up the driveway.

"Nice digs, honey."

"I'm not honey, and thanks," Amy mumbled as she picked her book bag up from the floor of the car. "It's kind of too big for just two people most of the time, I think, but my mom and I have lived here for as long as I can remember, so..."

"I see. My Uncle Murphy would have a fit if he saw it, I swear," Zach told her. "He's a builder, lives in a small town called Moycullen in Ireland, and he's totally into architecture and such."

"Well, one of these days, I'll give you the grand tour," Amy chuckled. "But for now, I guess I'll go in. Thanks again for driving me home."

"Hey, it's not a problem," Zach grinned. "I'll walk you to the door if you'd like."

"It's all right, you'd just get soaked in the rain," Amy replied. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, then."

She got out of the car, book bag in tow, and made a quick dash up the walk towards the front door. Zach figured it was only expected of him as a healthy teenage male to watch her legs until she went inside.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Short-ish chapter here, and while it may seem a bit unnecessary, there's a reason I had to establish our hero and heroine as on the high school swim team :P Also, yes, Michelle Kaioh is who you think she is :P

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

He got an A- on the test, and was fairly sure that she got higher than that. Either way, it seemed as though Adams' dictatorial and arbitrary partner assignments were working out better than expected, and Zach found that he had no regrets that he wasn't working with Megan. Amy wasn't bad when you got to know her, and for an introverted brainiac type, certainly had some world class legs when you got to see them.

He couldn't say, however, that that was on his mind when he arrived at school early one day to visit with Swimming and Diving Coach MacIntyre, arguably one of his favourite teachers in the school. The girls' swim team, whose season preceded his own, was wrapping up their practice and most of the members were getting out and toweling off as he made his way towards the gray-haired but wiry coach. There was a single student left in the pool, however, arms a blur of movement and skin and water splashes as she did the butterfly stroke down the length of the pool. At the end, still in her teal and silver school bathing suit, girls' captain Michelle Kaioh held a stopwatch and watched her teammate's progress.

"58.12, not bad. You shaved an eighth of a second off your earlier record." Michelle pronounced as the girl slapped the end of the pool with a slim hand and emerged. Zach, in the process of greeting his coach, paused mid-sentence and blinked. The white swimmer's cap effectively hid the blue-black locks of hair, but there was no mistaking those big blue eyes.

"Wait a minute... Amy?" he called out in surprise.

"Hello, Zach," Amy looked up at him and their coach with a coolly polite smile. "What brings you here this morning?"

"Just here to say hi to the coach, since I've not done so all year. You're on the team?"

"That she is," Michelle Kaioh, a statuesque senior who was also first chair violinist for the school orchestra, shot Zach a wryly amused look. "First year in varsity, and I have to say that I expect the best of her."

"No kidding. Every time I think I have you figured out, I learn you can do something else too," Zach grinned. He thought it was very, very much to his credit that, as Amy emerged from the pool, he didn't drool. The body that was clad in nothing but a functional teal-and-silver one-piece was a miracle of slim curves and wiry muscles and small, firm breasts. Subtly flaring hips gave way to endless legs and strong shoulders led to toned arms and delicately formed hands. "What's your best event?"

"200 Freestyle," she answered, her voice soft and demure. "Yours?"

"100 Breaststroke," he said, not noticing that behind him, Coach MacIntyre and Michelle were exchanging glances. "But I'm decent on the 200 Free as well. Wanna race?"

"Right now?"

"Sure, why not?" He glanced over his shoulder at Coach with an ingratiating grin. "Can I? Amy's my very mysterious biology class lab partner and she doesn't tell me stuff about herself, like being on the team. It would only take a minute."

The coach disguised what was probably a chuckle with a cough. "You kids have class in about half an hour, don't you?"

"We won't be late. It'll only take me two minutes to get changed." The impulse was irresistible. "Michi can ref, maybe?"

"As you wish," Michelle's calm voice was laced with amusement. "Go get ready then."

A few minutes later found Zach emerging from the boys' locker room wearing a speedo and a cap, and bowing when Michelle mock-whistled at him. Amy sat at the pool, her toes dipping into the pristine blue water, and her expression was unreadable.

"Hey, honey?" Zach squatted next to her and playfully chucked her chin. "If I win, you'll have to wear the suit for Teal-and-Silver Day during spirit week before Homecoming."

"I'm not honey," Amy said blandly as she gave him a sidelong glance. "What about if I win?"

"Hmmm..." Zach pondered this for a moment. From the tiny bit he'd seen of it, she had good form as she did the butterfly, but he did have a year's experience and several inches on her. "I don't know. Your choice?"

"I think that if I win, you should have to wear a dress one of the days, though I'll leave the specific day up to you," Amy pronounced before standing back up. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'll give you a four stroke handicap," Zach said generously, and perhaps because his focus was on the path of an errant drop of water sliding down from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her breasts, he was completely unaware of Michelle shaking her head and laughing silently behind him.

"If you think that's fair," Amy said solemnly. "All right." Without further ado, she dove into the water with barely a splash and took off. Zach followed in hot pursuit a lane over and cut through the water with powerful strokes.

Two streamlined forms shot down the length of the pool like sleek teal-and-silver bullets. They hit the end at about the same time, turned underwater, and reversed back without breaking rhythm. Zach knew that he had the advantage of height, but she was faster than he'd expected, her strokes even and seemingly effortless, and he upped his speed slightly.

They were neck to neck at the halfway mark of the last pool-length, and then, as though waiting for just the right moment, she put in a final burst of speed. She hit the edge of the pool a split second before he did.

"1:50.08, Amy," Michelle's voice held approval. "Do that at the meet against Everett tomorrow night and you'll blow them all away. Zachary, I remember learning in your mother's mythology class that hubris is the fatal downfall of most heroes."

Zach, who prided himself on not being a sulky bastard when he lost, laughed and emerged from the water. "I guess she didn't need that handicap, hmm? Nice form there, Amy." He wasn't just talking about her swimming technique, but she didn't have to know that.

"Thanks," Amy rewarded him with one of her slow, sweet smiles as she got out of the water. "We should go change so we're not late for class, hmm? Thanks for all the help today, Michelle."

"It's not a problem," Michelle answered as the younger girl picked up a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders as she headed towards the direction of the lockers. She glanced back at Zach, frowned, and slapped his bare shoulder lightly. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" Zach's face was the epitome of injured innocence. "Since when did you start being all violent and stuff? Are you sure you should be hanging out with that track-and-field chick from Everett, Amara whatshername? She looks like she could blow someone's shit out."

"That's got nothing to do with anything," Michelle shook her head reprovingly. "I mean, stop staring at her ass. I thought you were above such puerile, typical teenage boy ogling. And your usual type doesn't resemble Amy in the least. That girl doesn't need to be objectified."

"Now look here, Michi-darling, me heart's most grieved at that accusation. I'm not a bloke who's got some so-called 'usual type', first of all, and second, well bless me soul, but 'twere her legs and not her arse that I was starin' at. They're quite a fine pair of legs. Yours aren't a trial to look at, either."

"God save me from overly chatty Irishmen with leg fixations," Michelle moaned. "I'm going to go get changed. Look forward to seeing you in drag, O'Connor."

"Yeah, yeah," Zach waved a hand dismissively. He was a little bit disappointed that Amy would not be wearing her bathing suit to class for the wager, but it wasn't that important.

After all, as a friend, he could always go to her swim meets. Greg the German probably already did, anyway. It was just the nice, supportive thing for a person to do. They were friends of a fashion, and he did have nothing but best wishes for her performance on the team this year.

That he'd get to see her wear nothing but a bathing suit was only a random side benefit.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry another short chapter, the next one will be longer I promise! I had to split things into two chapters or it would be over-long. Next chapter should be up in a day or two though, so that's something, right?

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Also the line "If I don't make it, know that I've loved you all along" comes from a song by Our Lady Peace.

* * *

Amy took first in the 200 Freestyle the next evening against Everett High School, and third in the 100 Butterfly. She was probably not aware of the fact that Zach was there in the stands during the meet, though she was undoubtedly aware of Greg's presence. Zach rather thought that since he'd not told her that he'd be there, it might seem a little bit creepy and stalkerish, so he decided to leave without alerting her to his presence.

He did catch her the next day before class, however. As she was immersed in the book she was reading, he managed to successfully sneak up on her, place his hands over her eyes, and whisper "Boo!" in her ear. Her hair smelled pleasantly of girl-shampoo florals and just an underlying hint of swimming pool squeaky-clean-ness. He swallowed a laugh when she jumped.

"So. My sources reveal that you did good at the meet," he remarked as she pulled his hands off her face.

"Mm, I suppose. Good morning, Zach. How are you today?"

"Absolutely fantastic and ecstatic to be here in your glorious presence," he quipped, before sobering and taking his seat. "So how long have you been swimming?"

"For about as long as I can remember," she murmured. "There's a pool in the back yard of my house. I practice there a few times a week."

"No kidding?" he leaned forward. "You're quite lucky. I've the one here, of course, and then there's a park close by my neighbourhood where there's a pool. Walking distance. But it's not the same as having a pool right outside the house. Regardless... what else do you know how to do that I don't know about yet?"

"Just the normal range of abilities, I believe," Amy closed her book and gazed at him seriously. "I don't know much more about you than you do about me. Good heavens, I'm actually kind of surprised that I agreed to that wager with you. Will you feel awfully humiliated? It wasn't made in the spirit of meanness."

"Oh, don't you worry, honey. It'd take more than a dress and some makeup to humiliate me," Zach grinned and reached over to ruffle her hair. "Serena Sterling has agreed to play the thankless role of costume designer for yours truly for this excursion. I believe a raid of the Thespians' wardrobe supply will be in order."

"First of all, I'm not honey. But I can't wait," Amy cracked a smile at that. "What are you wearing? For what day?"

"That, honey, is something that I can't tell you," Zach declared. "Even if I were inclined to, I don't know. I've intrepidly put my fate in Serena's lily-white hands, so if I don't make it, know that I've loved you all along. Or, y'know, considered you a very cool lab partner. Whichever one you prefer to believe."

"I see," she said calmly, but her cheeks reddened, and she forgot to berate him on calling her 'honey' again, so he considered it a triumph. "Are you looking forward to homecoming and all that?"

"I guess so," he answered. "You're going to go with Greg, right? I thought I heard something to that effect."

"Yes, well, it's part of American high school life, and he deserves to experience it while he's here. So, I'll take him. I probably wouldn't have gone otherwise. I'm just a sophomore, you know, and I guess you can say that it's not really my scene."

He privately thought that it was too bad for Greg that Amy spoke of taking him in a way reminiscent of a mother remarking on taking a young kid in for a dental appointment, but that was Greg's loss, wasn't it? "I'm taking Mina Atherton, who is arguably one of my oldest and closest friends," he told her. "You know her, right?"

"Of course," Amy answered with a faint smile. "She sits next to me in History class. She's a very nice girl. Quite pretty, too."

"Indeed," Zach agreed readily. "I'm also saving her from the fate worst than death, as this one creeptacular loser keeps dogging her and she's a bit too polite to tell him to go hump a dead warthog after eating a spool of razor wire. It's worrying sometimes how that girl just seems to attract the world's biggest morons and asshats." Despite the sarcastic tone and foul language, his face was solemn, his brow furrowed in genuine worry. "Well, hopefully Dan Burright won't start any shit."

"I'm sure you're capable of putting him in his place if he does," Amy said reassuringly. "Besides, there will be chaperones there. No one's going to let anything get out of hand."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of that type of thing," Zach shook his head. "Mina may look like your typical bubbly blonde, but the girl's got an arm like a catapult if it were to come down to that, though she'd do anything in her power to avoid getting into that sort of altercation. I just hope he doesn't say anything to hurt her feelings. You don't know this kid, I don't think. He's this complete, utter, snot-nosed punk with anger management issues who sees females as good for one thing only. Add in a drug problem and... yeah."

"You'll make sure nothing gets to Mina, then," Amy's voice was even and assured, and that comforted him almost as much as the hand she involuntarily laid over his on the table. "You know, for an occasionally-arrogant compulsive flirt, you're not nearly as much of a chauvinist as I would have imagined."

He shrugged the compliment off. "I've a mother and a sister and a few female friends. I know better." He gave her a sidelong glance. "So, you gonna save me a dance?"

He thought that she'd mull it over silently for a few seconds, as was her wont, but instead she answered immediately and unhesitatingly, a smile crossing her lips. "Sure."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, finally, a LONG chapter after that slew of short ones! The much-anticipated Zach-in-a-dress, the Homecoming dance, and some troublemaking by Danburite. Enjoy and as always, thanks for the comments!!!

Disclaimer: Insert witty disclaimer here.

* * *

Spirit Week found the students at Roosevelt High dressing in costumes ranging from the mundane to the bizarre, but none quite so outlandish as Zachary O'Connor's outfit on Blast from the Past Day. Several jaws, even the typically unflappable and marble-faced Mrs. Adams', dropped when he minced into the classroom, books in one hand, skirts in the other. The medieval-style dress was made of some dark, velvety material and laced up at the bodice. To fit with the dress, Zach's sandy curls were tamed down from their usually tousled state to graceful spirals, and his bright green eyes were lined in kohl and mascara and emphasized with glittery eyeshadow. Several students whistled, and Zach, not so much as a hint of a blush on his face, set down his books for a moment, curtseyed and continued towards his seat, managing somehow not to trip or tear anything in that long, perilous walk.

The night after that however, the actual evening of the homecoming dance, found him dressed in a much more dapper and masculine fashion as he arrived at Mina's house, a small white box in one hand and a bouquet of black-eyed susans in the other. Mina's surrogate mother Charity opened the door and grinned when she saw him.

"Why, don't you look handsome, Mister O'Connor. Come on in."

"Thanks, Mrs. Harmon," Zach smiled. "How've you been?"

"Fine, thank you. Would you like a snack, something to drink? Mina will be down in just a moment."

"I'm good," Zach answered as he sat down on an armchair in the living room to wait for his date. "How're the kids?"

"They're good," Charity's warm brown eyes were filled with maternal love at the mention of her children. "Louise can't stop laughing at the picture Mina took of you wearing a dress to school. What was that all about?"

"Oh, just a bet I had going on with someone," Zach chuckled. "That someone in question happens to just be full of surprises. So, it resulted in me wearing the last year's Lady MacBeth costume from the thespians' wardrobe. I think I got hit on by three different guys that day before they realised that I wasn't a girl."

"Well, even in a dress, you looked very handsome," Charity laughed. "Junior's pouting a bit. He wishes he could go to this big kids' event."

Almost on cue, a small boy with a smear of chocolate on one cheek and a protruding lower lip walked into the living room from the direction of the kitchen. "Mina says it's so fun and she always lets me have fun with her so why can't I go too?"

"You will, sweetheart, when you're in high school," Charity told her son calmly. "Do you really want to be dancing all evening?"

"Frankie's brother Tony had this song playing on the radio and was dancing to it," Junior told them seriously. "It goes 'to the right, to the right, to the right, to the right! To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left!'" He treated his mother and a greatly-amused Zach to an impromptu miniature version of the Cupid's Shuffle as he recalled the steps, and at the end of it, everyone looked up to see Mina descend the stairs, clapping her hands.

"Hey you," Zach stood up and walked towards her with a grin. "You look gorgeous. These are for you." He handed her the bouquet with a flourish.

"Aww, Zach, you didn't have to. But thank you." Mina, resplendent in a strapless golden-yellow dress with a black bow girdling her slender waist, gave him a quick hug as she accepted the flowers. "I'll go put them in water." She got a glass vase out of a kitchen cabinet, filled it, and placed the bouquet in the center of the kitchen table.

"I got you a corsage too, since that's like what you're supposed to do and stuff," Zach told her as he handed her the box. He pulled out the ribbon-bedecked spray of yellow daisies and white rosebuds and fastened it around Mina's wrist, and then turned to Charity and Junior with a smile. "We'll be back in a few hours. I promise to return her in one piece and not be out too late and such."

"Oh, we know," Charity said comfortably. "Have a good evening, dears. Don't get into trouble."

"We won't," Mina promised as she turned towards Zach with a smile. "Shall we, Mister O'Connor?"

"We shall, Miss Atherton," he said, offering her his arm and opening the door for her. "So, how many guys will I have to tell off tonight for slobbering on you?"

"Hopefully none," Mina answered immediately. "There will be plenty of girls at the dance."

"Your sunny optimism is one of your best qualities, you know that?" Zach opened the passenger door to his car for her before getting in on his side. "But we'll see how the night progresses." Sedately, windows rolled up as a concession to Mina's carefully done hair, he drove towards the high school.

Zach wasn't exactly LOOKING for Amy when he and Mina arrived at the high school cafeteria, which had been decorated by the invisible elves that always seemed to coordinate such events. The usually harsh fluorescent lighting was cut in favour of hundreds of strings of white Christmas lights and electric candles, and the walls were festooned with garlands of silk flowers and crepe paper streamers. Against one wall was a buffet table supplied with finger foods and cans of Coke products compliments of the home economics class, the PTA and various volunteers.

He saw her next to the buffet table, in conversation with Gregor Schoenherr, clad in a filmy concoction of aquamarine that left her smooth neck and arms bare. A spray of simple white roses decorated one slim wrist, matching the single white bud in her date's lapel. He glanced at her for a moment, then turned to Mina with a smile. "Wanna mingle first or dance?"

"Mingle for sure," she laughed. "Ooh, there's Serena stuffing her face at the buffet table. Let's go say hi."

He assented and they approached the petite blonde, who looked like a fairy princess in her silvery dress and was chatting animatedly with her date Russ Layton, a fellow Thespian who had spiky brown hair and a very expressive face. Both of them were laughing, and Serena carried a full plate of food. She caught sight of them as they walked towards her and waved madly.

"You look like you're flagging down a taxi, you goof," Mina laughed as she walked over. "Nice dress."

"Yeah, you'd say so, because you helped me pick it," Serena rolled her baby blue eyes before laughing again. "You two look nice. Still, Zach, not as nice as I had you looking yesterday during classes."

"THAT was stellar," Russ proclaimed, stealing a chip from Serena's plate and getting his hand slapped in the process. "You looked totally hot in that get-up. I wanted to propose marriage on the spot."

"And I would've had to stay in the character of the femme fatale that is Lady MacBeth and cruelly broken your heart," Zach shot back with a smirk. "Though I might have tried to soften the blow afterwards with some sort of 'it's not you, it's me' speech."

"Man, are those little speeches supposed to make you feel better or something?" Serena demanded as she dunked a celery stick in ranch dressing and crunched down on it. "I never saw it that way."

"Me neither," Mina declared. "I mean, mind, I don't think I've ever met anyone I liked so much that it would really cut me up if they said that to me. But still. It's best just to be honest with your feelings."

"Yeah, you tend to attract losers," Serena said matter-of-factly between bites. "It's okay though. Someday you'll find the perfect guy for you." Her smile turned a bit wistful and she glanced across the cafeteria, where a tall, handsome young man with coal-black hair was conversing with a statuesque, olive-skinned girl in a burgundy satin sheath. "I wish I were a senior. Then maybe someone wouldn't see me as a little kid sister type. But whatever." Her guileless blue eyes, gentle and completely free of malice, fell upon Darien's date. "Trista Mason always looks so put-together, doesn't she? Like a model, almost."

"You, my dear, are a far nicer person than I am," Zach declared, going over and giving Serena a one-armed hug. "If someone I liked was going with someone else, there'd be no way that I'd not wish for my rival to die in a fire or something. Just saying."

"Well, I don't think Darien likes Trista like that, either. They're just good friends who share lots of classes, and you know that they're the shoo-ins for Homecoming King and Queen," Mina remarked. "So, Zach, who is it that you like who's going with someone else whom you wish would die in a fire? Do tell."

"You know, I could be speaking hypothetically."

"Yeah, okay. I'll get it out of you sooner or later, just you wait," Mina muttered before snagging a cookie off a plate and taking a bite. "Serena will help me, won't you Serena?"

"Ob coursh," Serena nodded enthusiastically around a mouthful of food, then bounced up as an upbeat pop song by some group that Zach did not recognize started playing. "Ooh, gotta dance! Later!" Grabbing the hand of Russ, she all but dashed for the dance floor. Zach exchanged glances with Mina, and both of them laughed before following in their friend's example. Out of the corner of his eye, Zach watched as Amy and Greg talked to a few of the other students, including Darien Shields, Trista Mason and Michelle Kaioh, and was amused to see that she was completely oblivious to the fact that a dorky looking freshman boy was ogling her from a few feet away, holding a can of Coke in his trembling hand like a lifeline.

Amy danced a few of the songs with Greg, but seemed to encourage him to talk to his other friends as well, and remained mostly in the background, a luminous figure in dreamy blue. She noticed him then, and smiled, and he winked at her over Mina's shoulder.

Perhaps it was this momentary distraction which caused for him to let his guard slip for a moment, and give another boy the opportunity to home in on them. Dan Burright looked semi-respectable cleaned up for the evening, but his expression was as vile as ever, and his breath smelled unpleasantly of whiskey and cigarettes. He reached out quick as a snake and smacked Mina on the bottom, and she squeaked in surprise.

"Hey, baby," Dan smirked even as Zach pulled Mina behind him. "Happy to see me?"

"Hell no she's not happy to see you," Zach glared at the other boy, keeping an arm protectively around Mina's shoulders. "How the hell you managed to get past the chaperones smelling like a cheap distillery is beyond me, but you might as well just turn right back around. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."

"I wasn't talking to you, asshole." Dan glowered, lurching towards Zach, his eyes red and narrowed. "What? I can't cut in for a dance, sweetheart? You're a fucking tease, coming out wearing that and not letting anyone get close."

Zach stepped forward, fists clenched. "You have exactly ten seconds to get the fuck on before I knock the shit out of you so hard that no amount of chemical enhancement will numb the pain." He didn't notice that around them, a group was gathering, or that a small, dark-haired girl was weaving in between bodies to get to them.

"Don't do it, Zach," Amy's voice suddenly reached them, cool and dismissive as he'd ever heard it. "He's not worth it, first of all, and secondly..." The blue-clad girl, her expression chilly as an arctic wind, gave a once-over from the top of Dan's head to the toes of his shoes with an utter look of contempt. "Well, as atrophied as he looks right about now from what he's on, one tap would knock him right on the floor, and then someone would have to lug him out." Her cold eyes met the red, angry ones of Dan Burright unflinchingly. "What? Did you skip the lecture about the negative effects of mind-altering substances on your physical well-being?"

"You stay out of it, bitch," Dan growled, reaching out with the intent to shove Amy roughly out of his way. Due to her anticipation of exactly such a move, not to mention his dulled reflexes, she nimbly side-stepped and he crashed to the floor. Her posture ramrod straight and stately, Amy lifted her skirts out of the way of him even as one of the chaperones stalked over to deal with the boy.

Leaving Zach to explain the situation to Coach MacIntyre of the swim team, Amy took Mina's arm and gently but inexorably led her away. "Are you all right?" she asked the blonde quietly as they made their way towards the cafeteria door. "Let's go outside for a moment, get some air."

That was where Zach found them a while later, Mina still pale but a bit calmer, talking softly to Amy about how Dan sat next to her in Geometry class and had been harassing her all year. Amy pulled a travel-sized pack of Kleenex from her little evening purse and handed it to Mina, who took one out and blew her nose. Zach went up to them then, and gave his friend a hug. "Hey, you hanging in there?"

"Yeah, thanks," Mina cracked a smile as she hugged him back. "You know you shouldn't have threatened to beat him up or anything, right? You'd get kicked off the swim team for that."

"No, I'd get a special Varsity letter for that," Zach contradicted her insouciantly. "Or at least we can pretend. He's being dealt with now. He has a three-day suspension thanks to Coach, and you can at least get a bit of a respite from him." Amy made to walk back inside about then, and he caught her eye. "Hey, good showing in there, honey."

"I'm not honey," she corrected him automatically, even though her lips curved upward. "And I didn't do much, really. Anyone with half a brain could've seen that he was about to shove forward. Momentum, etc. All I did was step out of the way."

"Oh, that's not what I mean and you know it," Zach shook his head. "I mean putting him in his place. You're quite the lady. And you carry tissues in your purse? That's so cute. My mom does that."

"You're an idiot, Zach," Mina rolled her eyes, but the exchange had somewhat restored her composure, not to mention given her something else to think about. She made no mention of it now, however, and instead turned to Amy with a smile. "Thanks."

"Any time," Amy answered. "I guess we should all go in again. They're probably about to crown the Homecoming Queen and King."

As predicted and widely expected, Darien Shields and Trista Mason, student class president and treasurer, respectively, were crowned the year's Homecoming King and Queen. Darien spoke a few words on encouraging everyone to treat others with fairness and integrity, Trista on making the most of their time and striving for their best, and the two shared a decorous dance to Des'ree's "You Gotta Be", the class song of the graduating seniors, before going to mingle with the others.

Darien did manage to notice Serena and, perhaps out of politeness, ask her for a dance. The small blonde was ecstatic, though she tried to hide it, and Mina laughed when she saw them. "I think I'll go and keep poor Russ company for the moment, Zach. One of us has to, and if it's you, he'd take it the wrong way for sure. Excuse me."

Zach nodded, and noticed that Greg Schoenherr was elsewhere occupied, talking with Betsy Feldman from International Club. He turned to Amy with a grin and a beseeching look in his eyes. "So, you promised me a dance, right?"

"I did," she nodded. Des'ree's song faded, and another one started. "When would you like to dance?"

"Now would be good," Zach answered, reaching for her hand. She placed it in his, and he made a courtly, old-fashioned bow over it, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a moment before grinning as the slow song came on. "And hey, it's not even a song about bitches and ho's like often played on the radio these days."

She laughed softly, but allowed herself to be pulled close, resting her hands delicately on his shoulders as his linked behind her back. Sweetly, sultrily, Norah Jones sang in the background, and she relaxed against him bit by bit.

She fit into his arms perfectly, the cool, smooth material of her dress contrasting to the warmth of her skin underneath. Zach leaned his cheek against her soft, dark hair and wondered why he felt so shaken. It was just a dance, and she wasn't the only beautiful girl he'd ever met, and never before had attraction felt so complex, so strong. It wasn't just a matter of her sparkling eyes and perfect legs and the fresh scent of her hair, it was a matter of trying to figure her out, understand what made her tick, and he'd never really thought he'd care.

It was a bit disconcerting, to say the least. Okay, scary too.

But he could just keep that to himself for now, and contented himself with the music and the slow movements of the dance, the way she slowly relaxed her fingers on his shoulders and the evenness of her breathing. When the song drew to a close, he pulled back enough so that he could smile down at her, and, cupping her chin, bent his head and kissed her cheek before stepping away.

She was blushing, the tinge of pink in her cheeks visible even in the dim light, and his smile grew just a little. "Thanks for the dance, honey. Oh, hey, by the way, you look beautiful tonight."

He walked away to find Mina after that, but glanced over his shoulder back at Amy. She was still blushing, one hand to the cheek that he'd kissed, and it was only after he caught her eye again that she cleared her throat and mouthed the words "I'm not honey" back to him.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: A brief interlude, but the next chapter will be up sooner than this one was! Thanks as always for the reviews!!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

The disturbance caused by Dan Burright notwithstanding, Amy was back to her normal, collected self the next week in Biology class, and when Mrs. Adams assigned a lab on cellular structure with the report counting for fifteen percent of their grades that quarter, offered up her house quite politely as a place for them to work on it.

And so it was that that Zach found himself driving to the pristine, front-page-of-Architectural-Digest house where Amy lived for the second time after getting out of Debate team practice. Walking up the shallow stone porch steps, he rang the bell.

Amy answered the door, and ushered him in with innate politeness into a fleckless foyer with polished hardwood floors and an artsy single lucky bamboo in a slim blown-glass vase on a glass table. The walls were a spotless white and the floor looked clean enough to eat off of. Zach raised an eyebrow and curiously looked around.

"Well, I promised you a tour earlier, right?" Amy said quietly. "There's not really much to see, but it's clean. We've a housekeeper come in twice a week, and to be honest, the place is empty most of the time, since my mom works so much and I've swim practice and Chess club and volunteer part-time at the library."

Zach could have figured that one out without her saying. The interior of the house was as sleekly modern as the exterior, everything precisely arranged and polished to a gleam. There were no shoes carelessly kicked off by the door, no dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, no ties or jackets draped over the backs of chairs. Were it not for the single photograph of Amy and a woman whose dark hair and solemnly intelligent blue eyes clearly marked her as Amy's mother on the wall of the parlour, Zach would have expected the house to be an unoccupied model home decorated and upkept by real estate agents.

"Well, anyway, do you want something to eat?" Amy asked him after giving him the brief tour of the lower level of the house. "Or do you want to just get to work?"

Zach was mortally afraid that he'd irrevocably dirty something up in the spotless kitchen. "We can just get to work. Um, where are we working on the report, by the way?"

"My room," Amy answered. "Come on up."

They ascended a spiralling wood-and-glass staircase to the upper level, and Amy opened the first door on the left. In a stark contrast to the minimalist, barely-lived-in appearance of the rooms downstairs, her bedroom looked almost old-fashioned, with pillows in all shades of blue on a snowy-white bed and dainty, feminine white furniture. There was a neat desk holding a sleek laptop adjacent to a bookshelf holding a full set of Encyclopedia Britannica along with an eclectic collection of literature ranging from Virgil to Shakespeare to Ayn Rand to the Harry Potter books. There were even one or two paperbacks that looked like they could be trashy romance novels, but before he could tease her about that, his gaze landed on the wall behind the desk.

It was white, like the rest of the house, but almost entirely covered with carefully framed pictures. Several larger ones were recognizable as paintings, all done in the same style with subject matters ranging from seascapes to still lifes to a portrait of a girl who looked like a younger version of Amy herself, standing on a bridge over a creek teeming with lilies and cattails. The smaller ones looked to be postcards from places all over the world, and Zach recognized one of them to be the postcard of the Little Mermaid sculpture in Denmark that he'd found after it had fallen out of her book earlier that year.

"My dad sends me a picture every birthday," Amy said softly, coming up behind him to look at the little gallery herself. "As well as Christmas. Once in a while, though rarely, one comes without a special occasion. Nowadays it's mostly postcards rather than actual artwork, but..." She sighed, and he turned, and though her expression was calm and carefully blank, he wanted to step forward and wrap his arms around her, enfold her like one might do to protect something delicate and fragile and injured from the harshness of the outside world. It would be a bit presumptuous, though, and her history with her father had nothing to do with him.

"How many birthdays has that been?" he asked. "Er, well, you don't have to tell me. I don't want to overstep the bounds here or anything."

"Eleven," she answered, and perhaps she read his expression a bit too clearly, because she reached out and touched his arm in what was probably meant to be reassurance. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not worried about you," he said quickly, before modifying the statement. "Or, that is to say, no more than any of my other female friends. We ARE friends, right? I mean, you're not putting up with me just as a way to pass AP Bio and stuff. We both pretty much know that you could kick the exam's ass with one hand tied behind your back and running on fifteen minutes of sleep. But, yeah, I'm not trying to butt in or anything. As long as you're okay. And if you're not okay, I swear that I can listen without being an asshole about it or asking stupid questions. Unless you start crying or something. In which case I might panic like a five-year-old at a horror movie, because girl tears are scary and evil and make me feel like raw sewage. Raw sewage mixed with radioactive waste and the Ebola virus and like, Satan's vomit."

He paused after this not-quite-masterful attack of verbal diarrhea and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying for nonchalance. Amy kept silent for a moment, then smiled, and in an uncharacteristic move that surprised him, reached up and traced soft, delicate fingertips across his cheek.

"You're sweet," she said softly. "And a good friend. Let's get to work."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: As promised, the next chapter is here. Alas, still a short one. But there will be more to come soon!

Disclaimer: I'm sure everyone has figured out by now that I own nothing.

* * *

Zach had never been a big fan of cliched adages.

Such uncreative statements as "Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves" were, as far as he was concerned, just another way of whining by people too lazy to come up with new and interesting things to bitch about. Furthermore, he considered himself a basically happy-go-lucky individual, someone whose mental state was basically unaffected by the small, petty things that mattered overmuch to other people.

Of course, by all rights, he should not have cared about Megan and Amy having an exchange of words which involved him as he just so happened to walk past them in the hallway. It was not a big deal, because girls talked about guys all the time, and that type of thing was almost a mark of status. He should, by all rights, have been smug that his name came up in the topic of conversation altogether.

It had been at the main entrance of the school at the end of the day, the day they'd all gotten their lab reports back. He had been gratified to learn that they'd done well, and Mrs. Adams had even sarcastically remarked, in regards to them, that it was about time that someone in class found it in themselves to follow instructions correctly. As far as the biology teacher was concerned, this was very high praise, and it should have been a good day.

Megan had sneered at Amy, as the latter paused by the door for a moment to organise her books and papers. "You know it's rude to stop in the middle of the doorway like that, right? Just because you're some sort of brainiac doesn't make you above common courtesy."

This time, Amy didn't rise to the bait. "I'm by the door, not in the middle of the doorway," she said evenly, before raising her head and meeting the taller girl's gaze squarely and unemotionally. "What's your problem with me, Megan? It's clear that you've had one since the first day of class, and I can say for certain that I've never so much as heard of you until this year."

Perhaps this had not been the right thing to say to Megan, because the curly-haired girl's eyes narrowed into slits. "I just don't see what the appeal is, that's all. Zach seems to be fond of you, but he hardly needs a tutor or anything."

Amy's hands slowly and methodically adjusted the books and papers in her book bag before carefully zipping it shut, and when she looked up again, her face was completely unreadable. "I'm not tutoring Zach or monopolizing his attention, and for that matter, we don't really spend much time together unless it's for classwork. If you're seeking his company, you're certainly welcome to it. His personal life has nothing to do with me, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop acting like I'm out to steal him from you if that's what you're thinking. Let me assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

Before Megan could respond, Greg Schoenherr had arrived, and his accented but warm greeting of Amy interrupted anything that Megan might have retorted back at her. Unnoticed by anyone, Zach watched as his lab partner and the German foreign exchange student walked out together, and wondered why he felt vaguely bothered by what Amy had said to Megan.

He was still mulling it over in the Thespians' rehearsal, and while he didn't manage to bungle anything up too badly as the group worked on a scene from _Alice in Wonderland_, his preoccupation was noticeable enough that when the stage manager called for a break, Serena, removing her pinafore and Alice band with a flourish, plopped down on the piano bench next to her friend.

"You're angsting today," Serena observed as Zach idly noodled at the keys, a disjointed tune in f-sharp minor tinkling beneath his hands. "Something happen?"

"Oh, nothing," he paused and pasted a smile on his face. "Just thinking about stuff, you know. Am I screwing up or something?"

"No, you're doing fine. But then again, the score to this play is hardly on a level with Chopin's nocturnes and Beethoven's sonatas, so you've a lot of room to fudge and be preoccupied without any noticeable screw-ups," she said breezily. "Still. Usually you're all chipper and stuff, and you're kind of quiet today. If you had dark hair, you'd probably look like Heathcliff right about now."

"That'd be the day," Zach did manage a chuckle at that. The tune that he was improvising continued in the minor key, developing a form with a refrain and a bridge filled with discontent-sounding diminished chords. "What's it mean when a girl says 'his personal life has nothing to do with me'?"

"That depends on the situation and the girl. Are we talking about YOUR personal life here?" Serena asked, eyeing him beadily with her baby-blue orbs. "If we are, it all depends on whether you actually asked Amy out or not."

A minor fourth cadence halted on a dissonant note. "What makes you think that I'm talking about me, or about Amy?"

The look that Serena shot him went so far beyond dripping sarcasm that there was probably a metaphorical puddle of cynical disbelief spreading rapidly across the floor. "I'm not a completely DUMB blonde, you know. I guess you haven't actually asked her out or anything, since otherwise I probably would've heard something by now and you'd not see the point in trying to play stupid. In that case, she probably means that you never made any kind of claim on her time or attention outside of the normal so there's no reason for her to think that you're mooning after her the way you actually are. Guess that smart people sometimes don't notice what's going on in front of their noses."

The last was spoken just a little bit wistfully, and Zach dragged his mind off his own thoughts and took his right hand off the keys long enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders and squeeze. "It may take some time and effort, but don't be disheartened."

"Trista Mason is gorgeous, you know," Serena, catching the eye of the stage manager, started tying on her pinafore again. "She's like five eight and has hair like a Pantene commercial."

"Yeah, and if Darien were all that interested in her, they'd be dating already, for years and years and years," Zach told her with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Both of them are such serious people. They'd depress each other eventually."

"That's a mean thing to say," Serena shook her pale blonde head.

"Not really. Serious people need to let loose sometimes," Zach murmured, and he didn't think he was just speaking about Darien Shields, or Trista Mason. "I'm just saying, don't give up hope and all that jazz."

"You too," Serena bubbled as she tied her hair bow back on. "Well, back to work. You ready to play something that doesn't sound like a dirge, _Maestro_?"

"At your service, _Signorina_." Somewhat heartened by the little pep talk, he turned back to the sheet music and flexed his fingers.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Chapter 12! We're about a third of the way through! Yeah, yeah, I know... this fic is ridiculously long. I apologize. Thanks for those who've stuck with it thus far, I hope it's been enjoyable!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, though Zach and I share similar opinions about Black Friday shopping :P

* * *

The girls' swim team banquet was the last Monday in November, a few days before Thanksgiving, and the day after that was the last day of school before the long holiday weekend. Most teachers, of course, decided to give up teaching much of anything as a lost cause.

This was, of course, not the case in Mrs. Adams' AP Biology class, and while watching a documentary on various famous biologists and their discoveries was rather lighter fare than the usual, the teacher had hinted not-so-subtly on a pop quiz on the information covered in the video after break, and most of the class was taking notes.

Amy had come in with a smile on her face, and Zach knew more about why that could be than she would have guessed. When the video was over, and Adams relented enough to let the students talk quietly amongst themselves for the last five minutes of class, he decided that he might as well make the most of it. "So, how'd the banquet go last night?"

"Hmm? Oh, the swim team banquet? It went well enough," she answered as she meticulously organised her notes. "My mom made it there, which was nice."

"I heard you got a few awards here and there," he poked her in the arm gently and playfully with the eraser end of his pencil. "For being really effing fast, particularly for a newbie, that sort of thing."

"Well, that's not QUITE how Coach put it," she laughed lightly. "It was nice of him to recognize me. We had a good season."

"I know." Zach had been to several of her meets, but as far as he was aware, she didn't know about that. "Michelle Kaioh says that she might nominate you as her successor."

"That'd be an honour," Amy mused. "Most would pick someone older and more experienced."

"Experience, blah. If you can break a regional record for the 200 Freestyle on your first year on a varsity team, you deserve it," Zach waved a hand, and raised an eyebrow at her surprised look. "What? I heard all about that. Just didn't get to, y'know, congratulate you or tease you or anything yet."

"You don't have to tease me," she said primly, though she smiled faintly. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving weekend?"

"Umm. Getting kicked out of the kitchen by my mom early on, retreating to watch football with my dad, stuffing myself silly, escaping before my mom tries to get me to do the dishes, get forced to take out the trash since I jumped ship with the dishes, and, yeah. Oh, and sleeping in on Friday while crazy people like my mom and my sister and Mina go shopping at ass o'clock in the morning. Anyone willing to come to blows in Walmart's home appliances section is a threat to Homeland Security and if I go shopping I'll end up saying that aloud and then possibly get my ass kicked by an army of ferocious little old ladies with giant handbags." He followed this narrative with a cheeky, endearing grin. "Yourself?"

"You seem to have every moment planned out," she chuckled indulgently. "I'm not sure, to be honest. My mom took the night off to attend the banquet. She may be on duty, and if so... well, I'll figure something out. Greg plans on going to bed early, he says, because he wants to se for himself what it's like to shop on Black Friday and possibly buy a few presents for his family. In any case, even if we don't get to do much on Thanksgiving itself, my mom's probably going to take us out over the weekend or something."

Zach made a few silent modifications to his detailed Thanksgiving weekend plans, but didn't give any outward indication of it. "Your mom's a busy lady."

"She's the head of the ER at the hospital," Amy murmured. "It happens, and somehow around this time of year they're especially busy. It's kind of sad to think about, being laid up in the hospital during the holidays." Her dark blue eyes were soft and compassionate when they looked up into his green ones. "Last year we did a project, my mom and I, and some of the other doctors and nurses, and bought Christmas decorations to put up in all the rooms in the pediatric ward. I still have all the cards the kids made for us after that." She blushed faintly, and glanced away. "You probably think that's kind of corny."

"I think that's sweet," he contradicted her. "So, you'll probably be around on Thanksgiving day?"

"Probably, why?"

"No reason," Zach shrugged. "Just curious."

With that, the bell rang, signalling the end of class, and he felt her eyes on him as he made his way down the hallway at a brisk pace towards the English department, in the opposite direction he usually took.

* * *

It was about eight o'clock when Zach decided to chance it and give Amy a call. Thanksgiving dinner was a long and casual affair at his house, which typically started around five and lasted well into the evening as an enormous amount of food was laid out buffet-style on the kitchen counter and people took it wherever they pleased. She picked up on the first ring, and her voice was cool and pleasant and oh-so-polite.

"Hello?"

"Hey, honey," Zach had retreated to his room with the cordless, out of the way of the football game on television. "How're you?"

"Hello, Zach. I'm not honey, and I'm fine," she answered in that same prim, pleasant tone. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Thanks. Same to you. So, you guys celebrating tonight or what?"

"Well, not really. My mom ended up getting called in for a case again, but she's taking the rest of the weekend off starting Saturday, so we'll likely go out sometime sooner or later. How about you?"

"Oh, it's party central at my place. You should come. It's not good to be all alone and not gorging yourself on this holiday."

She made a hmm-ing sound, and he pouted at the receiver before making what he considered a great sacrifice. "You can bring your friend the German. He should experience the whole schpiel too. Since they probably have more sense than to come up with a holiday just to veg out and watch football and consume about five bazillion calories in Germany."

"Thanksgiving's a family sort of celebration," she protested, though it did sound half-hearted to his ears.

"Yeah, well, my folks say it's okay. And besides, there's been random people in and out of my house all day today." By random people he meant Mina and various of her surrogate siblings, of course, but Amy didn't have to know that. "I doubt that one cute little blue-eyed overachiever's going to kill it. Say yes. Save me from the giggly conversations about the Jonas Brothers that my sister and her BFF are having before I bludgeon myself to death with a turkey bone. You don't want me to die, do you?"

"I'm not a cute little blue-eyed overachiever," she mumbled, and he could all but hear her blushing. "I'll go see if Greg wants to. Hold on just a second."

He did, and it was about a minute and a half (not that he was watching the clock or anything) later that she picked up the phone again. "He seems to be readying for bed because he wants to go shop really early tomorrow. Though I'm surprised that he would say no to experiencing the Thanksgiving pig-out." Her voice sounded bemused. "I guess I can take you up on your kind offer if you don't mind the imposition."

Zach did not, to his credit, do anything so undignified as dance around in victory, but he found himself grinning. "Honey, if it were an imposition, I wouldn't have asked. And you are too a cute little blue-eyed overachiever. I'll pick you up in about ten minutes. See you."

He clicked off the phone before she could contradict the 'honey' part again and snagged his keys. "Be back with a friend in ten!" he hollered as he jogged down the stairs. Congratulating himself on his foresight to park his car on the street instead of the driveway like usual where it would've been blocked by others, he put the vehicle into drive and headed towards Amy's neighbourhood.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thanksgiving at Casa O'Connor. Madness! Another chapter to come in a few days. For those whom this applies to, happy mother's day!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

Zach's house was in a quiet neighbourhood walking distance from a park, and Amy smiled softly when he pulled the car into park. The stone walls had faded to a dreamy silvery gray and there were lace curtains at the windows. There was a porch swing made of wood painted forest green and a big maple tree with a tire swing in the center of the front yard.

There were a few cars in the driveway, and Zach simply walked past them and into the open garage. He could tell that it was not like her to casually enter a house for the first time through the back door by the way she hesitated, but he simply took her hand and led her past the cars, the lawnmower in the corner and a plethora of random gardening implements before pulling the door open and letting her walk in before him. Her eyes widened comically as two little boys of roughly five years of age careened down the hall and nearly barreled into her.

"Junior, Frankie, if you two run while you have food in your mouths you might choke and then we'd have to take you to the hospital and you'd miss out on dessert," Zach said blandly, stepping forward and catching a boy's arm with each hand before turning towards Amy with a self-deprecating grin. "Honey, these little delinquents are William Harmon, Jr. and Francis Matheson, aka the Deadly Duo aka Junior and Frankie. Guys, this is Amy."

The two boys, one with a mop of straw-coloured hair and a riot of freckles and the other with toffee-coloured skin and brown eyes like chocolate drops, both smiled up at Amy. "Hello, Amy," the one called Junior held out a chubby hand like an adult would for her to shake. "It's nice to meet you. And sorry about almost crashing into you and stuff."

"Thank you, and it's nice to meet you two as well," Amy replied, a smile curving across her lips. "Don't worry about almost crashing into me, though." And with that, her apprehensiveness seemed to lessen considerably, and Zach made a mental note to buy Junior a king-sized candy bar.

"Here, let's find the rest of this horde," he said as he led Amy further into the house, smiling a bit as she carefully toed off her shoes and left them by the door.

They ran into a smiling, matronly old woman in a blue-and-white calico housedress who was carrying a plate of cookies to the living room, whom Zach introduced as Miss Emmaline and called the best baker in the state of Georgia. Miss Emmaline smiled, blushed prettily, and offered them cookies that did justice to her claim before telling Zach to get something for his friend to eat.

"Will do, Miss Emmaline," Zach said with an easygoing smile before turning to Amy. "There's a lot of food. Turkey, of course, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, baked potatoes, creamed corn, green bean casserole, ham, macaroni salad, chicken-fried steak, spinach, cole slaw, cranberry sauce, awesome homemade biscuits donated by Miss Emmaline, brownies and peanut butter cookies also made by the latter unless Junior ate them all already, and about half a dozen types of pie." He laughed as her eyes widened. "Just don't think about calories. It's not Thanksgiving unless there's a metric fuck-ton of food, am I right or am I right?"

"Language, Zachary," A smooth female voice interrupted them as a blonde woman, her buttercup-coloured hair tied back in a ponytail, appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. Her trim form was swathed in comfortable jeans and a light blue blouse the same shade as her eyes, which bore a look of calm curiosity as she smiled graciously and extended a hand. "Hello there. You must be Amy. I'm Kathleen O'Connor, Zach's mother."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. O'Connor," Amy said civilly as they shook hands. "Thanks for having me over."

"Oh, it's not a problem," Mrs. O'Connor laughed lightly. "As you can see, the house is overrun as it is. We're glad to have you. Let's go get you a plate so you can have some food, hmm?"

She led the way to the kitchen, where both the counter and the table were covered completely with platters as well as stacks of paper plates, napkins, plastic cups and silverware. Zach handed Amy a plate before taking one for himself. "So, eat up. Most of the stuff is good, even though as a rule I hate creamed corn so I can't judge on that one."

"You tried to stuff it down the air conditioning vent once," Mrs. O'Connor reminded him reprovingly, though her eyes were filled with amusement. "It took us quite some work before that could all get fixed."

"Hey, I was like seven, I didn't know," Zach protested as he shoveled some of everything but the corn onto his plate. "All I knew was that there were cool little gaps in the floor right under my feet the perfect size for dumping corn kernels. And you made me go without dessert for a week. Including chocolate cake on Sunday. Which was just mean."

"Well, you learnt your lesson from that and didn't dump any more food down the vents," Mrs. O'Connor declared. "A pyrrhic victory for me."

Zach made a face and stage-whispered to Amy, "And she learned not to make me eat creamed corn, so there!" His mom shot him a bland look, one eyebrow raised, and he sighed. "Not very often, at least."

Kathleen O'Connor left the kitchen, and almost as soon as she did, a whirlwind of energy burst into the room, a half-filled beer mug in one hand, curls of coppery hair falling around a handsome face filled with good cheer. "Well then, so you're back with your friend, Zach," he said heartily, his voice tinged with a musical Irish brogue as he surveyed Amy with a grin. "Ah, and you must be that very clever lassie from his Biology class whom he speaks of all the time. Sure and me boy never made mention of the fact that you were so pretty." Logan O'Connor turned towards his son, a mock-glare in his leaf-green eyes. "And why is that, boyo?"

"So that you wouldn't flirt with her like you're doing RIGHT NOW, Da," Zach rolled his eyes before turning to a wildly-blushing Amy with an apologetic grin. "That right there's my dad. He can't help himself."

"And indeed who could, I'd like to know, around such a fair face?" His father demanded even as he grasped Amy's hand with his free one and shook it warmly. "I'm pleased to meet you, miss. And do call me Logan."

"Logan, then," Amy smiled up at him, and giggled helplessly as he released her hand and thumped his fist dramatically at his heart.

"Make yourself at home, and welcome," Logan declared, before turning towards his son and winking. "You show good taste. Now make sure that your lass is made comfortable while under this roof." He sauntered off, beer in hand, whistling.

Zach turned to Amy with a wry smile. "My folks met in Ireland. My mom finished college and trekked through Europe and ran into my dad in a pub in Galway. Apparently no one BS-es like the Irish."

"I see," Amy, perhaps more comfortable now that they were left alone, tucked her tongue in her cheek. "So that's where you get it from, hmm?"

"Noooooo," Zach stuck out his lower lip. "I don't BS."

"If you say so," Amy laughed lightly. "Where do you want to eat?"


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: A slightly longer chapter, as requested. The next one will be up this weekend sometime. Thanks to those who have been reading and reviewing, I appreciate it a great deal!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

The two of them ended up taking their plates to the living room, which was relatively unpopulated compared to the rest of the house. Amy's face was full of interest as she scanned her surroundings, and Zach figured that she was noticing the contrasts between her house and his. The living room was tidy enough; Kathleen O'Connor was not the type to live amidst messy surroundings, but compared to the sleek, modernist look of her house, it looked lived-in and eclectic. Junior and Frankie sat at the love-seat, both of them packing away huge slices of pumpkin pie, and at their elbows, propped against the arms of the love-seat, were brightly coloured, mismatched cushions. There was a pair of girls sitting at the sofa, both around twelve or thirteen years of age, their gangly legs stretched out and their feet propped up on the coffee table. Zach went up to one of them, a pretty blonde who was mostly listening to the lively conversation of her friend, and gave her braid of sunflower-coloured hair a tug.

"Have you two moved on from the conversation of talentless boy bands?" he asked them, adopting an aggrieved air. "I want to sit down and eat, but cooing over pre-pubescent hacks might ruin my appetite."

"We're actually talking about how hot Rupert Grint looks in the latest Harry Potter movie," the blonde said dryly. Zach grimaced and Amy stifled a laugh.

"Isn't he like twelve? Wait. YOU'RE twelve. NO. Suse, we've been through this. You're TWELVE. Absolutely no interest in boys allowed. We have cooties and bad habits and horrible intentions!"

Behind him, lips twitching ever so slightly, Amy cleared her throat. "Aren't you going to tell me who you're arguing with, Zach?"

"Oh, yeah," Zach set his plate down on an end table and ran his hands through his curly hair, sending it tumbling around his face in sandy-blond disarray. "Amy, the blonde who's not allowed to date ever is my sister Susannah. The one who's laughing at me is Louise Harmon, her best friend and Junior's oldest sister. We don't have to worry about her dating so much because her dad's a big scary Marine. And... yeah. Guys, this is Amy."

Louise Harmon proffered a hand and exchanged pleasantries with Amy with an innate sort of grace, while Susannah hung back slightly and watched. Because the other seats in the living room were occupied with children, Zach waved Amy towards an armchair and took his own on the bench of an ancient-looking dark brown upright piano.

"Whose is that?" Amy asked as she sedately ate a little of everything. "The piano, I mean."

"Oh, that?" Zach chewed a mouthful of turkey and swallowed. "Mine, I guess. The fiddle hanging on the wall is my Dad's."

"You play?" Amy looked at the piano with interest as opposed to the derision that he'd irrationally feared. "How long? I wish I knew how to play a musical instrument."

"Oh, hmm, about eight or nine years," Zach replied. "Don't ask for a demonstration now, though. My hands are greasy and besides, inevitably later my dad will drag me down to accompany him when he's had enough beer and the spirit moves him. In the meantime, I can hold off on the inevitable, right?"

He dug into his food then, with gusto, and then bounced up from his seat when his plate was empty. "I'm going to go throw this away and stuff. And then if you want to I can give you the tour of the rest of the place."

"Zach," Susannah looked up at him with a small smile reminiscent of their mother's. "Mom says you have to take out the trash, all of it, before you go to bed this evening, and vacuum as well. She said it's because you're excusing yourself from dishes since you've a friend over and have to drive her home later."

"Life hates me," Zach moaned so melodramatically that Amy laughed over a mouthful of green bean casserole.

"It's the least you could do," Amy remarked, traitorously taking Susannah's part. "Maybe I can help you a little bit before I go. After all, I am kind of imposing on your family here."

"Hey, if Junior and Frankie don't have to do clean-up, you don't either," Zach gave her a smile. She stood up then, and he took her empty plate.

The family room was filled with enthusiastic males watching the football game, and holding court was Logan O'Connor, keeping a lively running commentary in his booming, accented voice. When one camera shot panned in on a row of cheerleaders on the sidelines, Logan remarked that it was certainly not a trial to look at such a group of pretty girls, but he'd seen better. Almost as though on cue, Kathleen O'Connor entered the room to pick up empty cups and plates, and her husband shot her a roguish wink. Zach shook his head as he watched the tableau and gave Amy a wry grin.

"You'd think the man was still in his twenties, the way he acts sometimes."

"He's sweet," Amy told him, and then she smiled and her eyes softened. "You take after him in a lot of ways. So what about the rest of the house?"

They poked in the dining room, which held a curio cabinet filled with knicknacks from all over the world, and Zach told Amy of how his father would always pick something up at every airport he stopped in as a pilot. Then she followed him up the stairs, and he opened the door of the first room on the right and let her in.

His room was reasonably neat, relatively speaking. There was a clock shaped like a tire hanging on the wall next to a basketball-themed calendar and a poster depicting a group of skydivers with the caption "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups", at which Amy shook her head wryly. Hanging from the ceiling was a truly enormous, colourful, wildly elaborate model of a pterodactyl made from K*Nex, which he'd done over Christmas break one year as a kid. Facing the bed, which had half a dozen pillows and a Batman blanket over the forest-green Egyptian cotton comforter, was a small television with a gaming console hooked up to it. There was what looked like the entire collection of Calvin and Hobbes on one level of the book shelf, and an ancient dinosaur of a computer and a magnetic poetry stand on the desk. He had a collection of Pez dispensers on top of a chest of drawers and a chair against a slightly-ajar closet door.

"Yeah, the closet won't close because I shoved all my junk in it today because there was company and blah blah," Zach explained as he plopped down on the chair by his desk. "As long as none of it turns sentient and murders me in my sleep, though, it's all good. It's not as nice as your room, but..."

"I like it," Amy said softly, picking up a Pez dispenser in the shape of Donald Duck before seating herself. "I like your house. And your parents are nice. It makes me slightly less nervous to take Art History with your mom next semester."

"Now, why would you be nervous?" Zach asked her in surprise. "You're so smart, and a good student, and you turn in homework on time and don't cheat on tests or use a cell phone during class time or start fights with other students or, I don't know, have a really annoying giggle or something. She'd have no problems with you."

"Yeah, but she's your MOM," Amy said vaguely, and something about the way she said it made him want to hug her, but then again, that might make her nervous and make her realize consciously that she was sitting on his bed, her back against his pillows and her bare feet stretched out. Not that he should have ideas about that or anything. "It's strange. I don't usually get nervous about teachers over anything."

That, in an odd way and for no reason he could explain, brought him a small measure of comfort, and he grinned. "Well, if 'tis all the same to you, love, I've naught but good things to tell her of you, and 'tis quite certain I am that the two of you will get along famously."

The lilting accent drew a smile out of her, as was his intention, and she stood up. "I hope so. Are you going to show me any other rooms of the house or should we join the others? It's kind of inhospitable for us to hole up in here, right?"

"Oh, honey, inhospitable's not the word for it if we WERE holing up in here," Zach drawled as he walked towards the door and pulled it open. "Now you've given me something to think about for the rest of the night, though."

He was grinning as they went back down the stairs, all but feeling the wild heat of her blush radiating off her cheeks and wafting towards the back of his head. It remained there through an impromptu duet with his father of "Black Velvet Band", and even after it faded, whenever he looked at her, it would slam right back into her cheeks.

It wasn't the complete truth, though. She hadn't given him anything to think about that had never occurred to him before. But he could just wait and figure out how to let her onto that, maybe.

In the meantime, though, he could just enjoy the way she smiled more now around him than before, and the way she looked, curled up sleepily in the passenger seat of his car when it was time to take her home, long lashes brushing her cheeks, locks of dark hair falling in her face. He could walk her to her door and watch her brow furrow cutely in concentration as she searched for her keys. And then, when she found them and turned to thank him in her cool, polite way, plant a quick kiss on her cheek that had that adorable blush rising again before bidding her good-night and excusing himself.

So he'd probably take a cold shower later on, but even with the unappealing prospect of taking out the trash and vacuuming the house ahead of him, he smiled like a fool the whole way home.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed! Here's the next chapter in time for the weekend, as promised.

Disclaimer: Same thing as the other chapters :P

* * *

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas were a blur of shopping and decorating and studying for finals. Amy's volunteer work at the library almost doubled, as she found herself staying on for increasing numbers of hours assisting panicking students who'd procrastinated til the eleventh hour for any number of projects. This she bore with fortitude, and ditto the crowds and the jingling holiday music piped in at every shopping institution in a twenty-mile radius when she went to do her Christmas shopping. As for her own schoolwork and exams, that had never been a problem.

It was the last day of school before winter break that she had difficulty with.

She'd always fancied herself a sensible sort, someone not likely to be involved in any of the typical teenage relationship drama which characterised so many others in her age range. She was more focused on schoolwork than dating, and she had never considered herself more than average in looks and social skills. That was all right, because teenage relationships statistically didn't tend to last, and she didn't need angst and complications clouding up her life and judgment.

That morning, as she idly did the crosswords on the newspaper over orange juice and cornflakes, Greg, his earnest face just a slight bit nervous, took his seat next to her at the kitchen counter and greeted her good morning with a little more than his usual bland friendliness.

"Are you ready for Christmas break?" she'd asked, looking up with a smile. "It's too bad we don't have any snow here. Winter seems a bit incomplete without it, hmm?"

"I don't mind the good weather," Greg replied, pouring himself a glass of orange juice as though readying himself for something important. He took a long sip, and faced her solemnly. "I wish to give you Christmas present early? Is that all right?"

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Amy murmured. "You didn't need to get me anything, you know."

"We have gotten along, yes?" Greg asked as he slid a box wrapped in brightly coloured red and green paper towards her. "You are... you are a very special girl."

Something about the way he said it made her a bit nervous. "I should get you your present, too." She'd bought him a collection of American literature, from Hawthorne to Twain to Fitzgerald to Steinbeck, paperbacks that he could easily carry with him, as well as a desk calendar featuring American landmarks and cityscapes for each day. It was neatly boxed and wrapped in navy blue paper patterned with silver snowflakes and tucked underneath the Christmas tree.

He smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I will open on Christmas Day, as I should. Is a bit hypocritical, perhaps."

Acquiescing, Amy reached for the box, which was small and square-shaped. Carefully and methodically, she slid a clean butter-knife under the edge of the wrapping paper to unfasten the tape, and extracted a white box. Opening it, her eyes widened as sapphire stud earrings winked up at her like dark blue stars.

"I... you shouldn't have gotten me something so expensive," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up. "They're beautiful, but... you really shouldn't have."

Greg didn't speak for several moments, and his silence made her look up, and perhaps that was his intention all along. His smile remained on his face, but his eyes were sorrowful, resigned, and he nodded in a way that made her understand without another word that she didn't have to say anything to explain her feelings.

"Your favourite colour is blue," he said slowly. "They remind me of you, and your eyes. I hope you will accept them."

"I..." Amy bit her lip and glanced down at the cold, sparkling stones. They were small, but seemed so weighty somehow.

"As a gift from a friend," he clarified, before sighing. "I know you will always be a friend. Always a friend and nothing more. I do not expect you to feel... well." One corner of his lips quirked up, but it wasn't quite a smile. "You have other things on your mind, perhaps other people."

"I don't have anyone on my mind," Amy contradicted him, feeling a bit miserable and more than a little awkward. The protest felt hollow even as it left her mouth, and that was new and troubling in and of itself. The next words seemed so robotic and insignificant. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Greg said quietly, and drained the rest of his orange juice. "It will be always an honour to know you. Now, maybe you should finish breakfast, try on earrings, and get ready for school?"

* * *

She wordlessly followed this advice and mulled over the situation on the way there, and that morning, when Zach walked up to their shared lab table in Biology and placed his hands over her eyes, she didn't even bother to remove them.

He did it himself after realising that she wasn't about to budge, and in a casual movement so characteristic of him, tipped up her face with his fingers so he could survey it, green eyes bright with concern.

"Hey, honey. You don't seem very full of Christmas cheer today. Want a hug?"

It was more out of habit than actual objection that she mumbled that she was not 'honey' even as she nodded. She found herself enveloped in warmth and strong arms and the strangely comforting scent of citrusy shampoo and coffee. "Hey, it's okay," he said as he pulled away, hands still loosely resting on her shoulders. "If someone has upset you, ass-kicking can be arranged. Because you've been so helpful in me not flunking this class, etc., it will even be done free of charge."

This didn't solve her problem, but coaxed, for a moment, a smile out of her, and he took his seat as though that had been his intention. "Good. Better than the mournful big-blue-eyes look that makes me feel like I just killed a fuzzy little kitten. You going to be all right?"

"Of course," she said automatically. She would be, certainly, and in all reasonableness so would Greg. Teenage relationship stuff was transient and always less serious than it seemed, even if she didn't know the solution to the problem and logic was cold comfort in the face of the situation at hand.

"Yeah, okay," Zach said dubiously, looking as though perhaps she needed to be hugged again, and why did THAT thought make her heart speed up a little? "I might check on you to make sure you survive whatever crisis. You know. Pop in and be annoying and take your mind off things. You don't even have to tell me what's wrong if you don't feel like it."

"Thanks," she said softly, sincerely. It would have been hellish trying to explain the situation to Zach of all people, particularly as he MIGHT just take it into his head to tell her he told her so. Though he wasn't the sort to rub it in when someone was genuinely upset, a quality which at the moment she appreciated beyond measure.

"Nice earrings, by the way." Reaching over, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear to better see the navy blue stud glittering on her lobe. "Good colour on you."

The smile slipped off her face like melting snow. She rather thought that she needed another hug.

She didn't realise that she spoke that last thought aloud until she found herself wrapped in his arms again, and then she just held on and leaned her head against his shoulder and missed the conflicted expression in his eyes, the flash that, had someone been watching closely, would have been identified as jealousy.

He didn't ask where she got the earrings, and it'd be months before she would figure out that he didn't have to.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: As requested, a longer chapter! Also as requested, some Amy POV.

Disclaimer: The same old story.

* * *

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were both somewhat uneventful, though at least her mother was home from work both days. Elizabeth Mizuno, who had taken her maiden name back after her divorce, was a calming presence in the house, and her quiet, soothing manner seemed to smooth away any potential awkwardness which might have resulted between her daughter and the foreign exchange student they were hosting. Several quarts of hot cocoa and highly competitive games of Monopoly later, Amy felt as though everyone was on more or less even ground.

The day after Christmas, when Betsy and Drew Feldman invited Greg to go to the mall with them to take advantage of the sales, she was home alone with the latest in her growing collection of postcards from her father when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this Amy?" The voice on the other end of the line was feminine and cheerful. "This is Mina."

"Oh, hi, Mina," Amy smiled faintly and took a seat at the kitchen counter, a bit bemused. She got along well enough with the blonde, and they shared a class or two, but she didn't know why Mina would be calling her out of the blue when the latter likely had any number of familial or social activities all through winter break. "Merry Christmas. How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks! How was your Christmas? The living room looks like a tornado hit, and I won't talk about the den. Ever since Santa brought the kids a Wii, it will never be the same again," Mina's laughter rang out blithe and golden through the receiver.

"Sounds like a good time," Amy laughed softly. The other girl had an intrinsic skill in communicating with people, in putting others in a good mood, and Amy envied her a little bit. "Nothing quite as exciting here, I'm afraid." There seemed to be some commotion over the line, and she thought she heard Mina's voice, sounding muffled as though she had one hand clapped over the telephone's mouthpiece, saying "I'm GETTING to it, hold ON!" exasperatedly.

"Er, anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, hey, just wondering... that is if you don't mind or anything, I've got a very annoying boy over here whom you might know from Biology class and so on-- YES, ZACH, YOU'RE ANNOYING! Hmph. Anyway, pest over here, suggesting we drop by and see you to escape the giddy children making lots of noise downstairs."

"Oh." More sounds of a scuffle came through the speaker, but Amy found herself smiling. "Well, you're certainly welcome to visit, both of you. It would be very kind."

"Oh great!" Mina's voice chirped through the line, followed by a giggle. "Zach wants to state for the record that he wants to escape the giggling and squeeing and Wii noises, but really it's because he's a dork and wants to see you. WHAT? Honesty is the best policy, Zachary O'Connor!"

"Really, I don't mind," Amy chuckled, and wondered why her cheeks felt hot. Mina's sunny good nature typically disarmed and relaxed people. "It will be nice to see you two." Holding the cordless phone with one hand, she began to clean the already-tidy kitchen with the other, an ingrained sense of organization kicking in at the prospect of visitors.

"All right! We'll see you in a bit! Bye!"

It was less than a half-hour later when Zach's car pulled up in the driveway, and Amy opened the door on the first ring of the doorbell with a hostess smile in place. "Please come on in. I've cookies and hot cocoa if anyone wants some. Merry Christmas, both of you."

"Thanks," Mina chirped, her hair tied back with a red bow trimmed with tiny silver bells that jingled merrily with her every movement. "We brought DVDs. Funny ones, mostly. Zach here probably owns every Sandler movie ever made."

Amy's eyes drifted past Mina and her stream of easy, friendly chatter and met Zach's, and was it just her imagination or did he seem strangely diffident for once? Something was happening, something still too nebulous for her to analyse and categorise, let alone respond to, but while it made her slightly nervous, there was a strange sense of anticipation as well. Slowly, she smiled, and it was mostly directed at him. "I don't mind a good laugh. Make yourselves at home."

* * *

Mina took the couch and stretched out her long, slim legs, citing a sore ankle from "falling asleep the wrong way", and because Amy was in the kitchen preparing the microwave popcorn that they had brought with them, she missed the dirty look that Zach shot his friend. She did notice, however, that the only available seat in the den would be next to Zach on the loveseat, close enough that their legs would be touching.

That was acceptable, since he was a friend after all, and after handing one bowl of popcorn to Mina and another to Zach, she primly took her spot next to him as the previews started rolling. "What are we watching?"

"Well. I won the coin toss, so it's going to be 'What Women Want'," Mina said breezily. "Otherwise it would've been 'The Waterboy'. We can do that next, Zach. Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting," Zach muttered, narrowing his eyes. "I'm just not much of a chick flicks kind of guy."

The movie started before the two friends could get into an argument over it, and Amy gradually relaxed, leaning back in the loveseat, her fingers brushing Zach's once in a while as they shared a bowl of popcorn. When Mel Gibson gave his rendition of Meredith Brooks' "Bitch", drunk on wine and rocking lipstick and pantyhose, she laughed, the movement sending her body naturally closer to Zach's. He had flung his arm carelessly over the back of the loveseat and stretched out his legs, and his fingers brushed against her hair lightly, almost subconsciously.

As the movie drew close to the end and Mel Gibson's character got struck by lightning, Amy, popcorn forgotten and thoroughly engaged in the story, leaned forward, elbows resting somewhat on Zach's legs, and watched raptly as the movie reached its conclusion. She was wholly unaware that the boy sharing her seat had his eyes fixed on her as intently as hers were on the screen.

Mina noticed, however, and perhaps in her excitement, stood up too quickly as the credits started rolling, intent on changing out the movie without necessitating either of the other two to move from their spots. The almost-empty cup of cocoa that she held spilled, splashing her pale yellow shirt in a splotch of brown.

Amy noticed that, and bounced up like a spring. "Oh, no! You must go and wash that out before it stains."

"It's all right," Mina started to say, before a thought occurred to her, and the tiniest of smiles crossed her lips. "Though you're probably right. It'll rinse right out, I'm sure, but could I borrow something to wear while it dries?"

"No problem," Amy said automatically. "Here, just follow me upstairs. I'm sure I have something that will fit you." The blonde was taller than she was, and perhaps a trifle more curvy, but a loose-fitting shirt would do all right.

"Be right back, Zachy," Mina sing-songed as she followed the other girl up the stairs. She, like Zach had a few months back, expressed admiration for Amy's room even as the dark-haired girl opened up a neatly organised closet at her disposal.

Mina selected a pale blue blouse, plain and unadorned but for a feminine touch of white lace trimming the modest v-neck. It was slightly snug on her, but the material was soft and comfortable, and she gave Amy a smile of thanks as she buttoned it up. "So," she asked in a breezy manner, "What are you and Zach doing for Valentine's Day?"

The blonde had to swallow a laugh as Amy's eyes widened almost comically and her cheeks flushed crimson. To Amy's credit, she wasn't rendered completely speechless by the out-of-left-field question. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's become a rather cliched holiday, but I figured that since you two are together, you'd probably still do something for it," Mina said with a studied nonchalance. "Share a pizza and a box of chocolates, at the very least."

"I'm..." Amy stared at Mina as though the other girl had suggested running through the school naked. "Did Zach tell you that the two of us were... were... romantically involved? Because we-- we're not. I'm not sure how you got the idea that we were."

"Well, it seems very obvious," Mina remarked as she took the Shout wipe that Amy handed her and dabbed at the stain on her shirt. "I mean, from what I've seen, you guys seem to be pretty close and have good chemistry, neither of you are seeing anyone else, and furthermore, I think you're pretty good for each other." Beyond that, though she didn't say for fear of embarrassing Amy too much, her romantic heart sighed at the way her oldest friend's eyes would soften at the mere mention of Amy's name. Zach, whose gregarious flirtatiousness hid a sensitive nature that not many knew about, had finally met someone that suited him perfectly, and the very thought made Mina smile.

Amy, however, was wringing her hands in slight consternation. "I... well, I don't date. And..." A hint of wistfulness that someone not as perceptive as Mina would have missed entirely, "Well, Zach deserves someone more... more interesting. More lively and friendly and socially adept and popular, like he is. He should have a girl like you, you know. I'm nothing special."

"Oh, Lord, dating Zach would be like committing incest," Mina laughed at the very thought. "Besides, I'm going to have to disagree, and I'm saying this as someone who's known him since elementary school. We've been buddies since we watched Sesame Street together and stuff, you know? I know him and love him like a brother, and as such... well, he needs someone who complements him, grounds him a bit when he gets too high-spirited, doesn't take any crap but appreciates his rather random sense of humour." Her light-hearted expression changed to something serious and sweet, "He needs someone like you, Amy. And he's a good guy. For all he's a jerk sometimes, he's one of the most caring people I know, and that's from someone who's lived more than half her life on the goodwill of others."

Amy, who had dropped into her desk chair at the start of this conversation, fiddled with a glossy postcard of the Eiffel Tower that sat on the desk, and bit her lip as she mulled over Mina's words. "Well, I'm really flattered that you feel that way," she said after a moment of somewhat troubled reflection. "I know he's caring, and that he's a good guy. But I... well, I really don't think I'm his type. There's a girl in our Bio class who'd like to see me perish in a freak Bunsen burner accident, and it doesn't take a whole lot of speculation to figure out that she and Zach were an item. She's nothing like me."

"That's why they're no longer dating, and probably why she hates you," Mina pointed out, inspecting her shirt with an air of satisfaction. Those Shout wipes were on point.

Before Amy could reply, Zach's aggrieved voice could be heard carrying up the stairs, heavily coloured with the brogue of the West Counties of Ireland. "Oy, you two lasses up there, sure an' ye might gift a lonely bloke with the pleasure of your company again instead of hiding away by yourselves to gossip about a body in private. 'Tis very unpleasant to contemplate what sorts of blarney might be spread about me, and I'm pinin' and sufferin' right now, I'll have you know."

Before Mina OR Amy could reply to that, there came the sound of a door opening sedately, and another voice, feminine and placid as a lake, sounded as well. "Oh, hello there. You must be Zach." The door closed again gently, and even footsteps in sensible shoes echoed softly in the foyer. "I've heard so much about you, it's a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm Amy's mother."

A muffled sound halfway between a squeak and an oath, followed by a voice that almost cracked on the last word. "Oh, uhmm... yeah, I'm Zach. Nice to meet you, er... Ms...?"

"Mizuno. The pleasure is all mine. I've heard all sorts of good things about you." Elizabeth Mizuno, whose demeanor was the soothing, unflappable tranquility of a doctor's bedside manner, toed off her sensible loafers and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Zach, feeling like a criminal caught red-handed, cringed as he followed Amy's mother and took a seat across the kitchen table, bracing for an interrogation.

Elizabeth hid a smile as she sat down and hung her purse over the back of the chair as the tall, sandy-haired boy sat on the very edge of his chair as though it might swallow him, fidgeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last," she ventured, watching as the boy's head snapped up and bright green eyes met her own blue ones. "Amy's mentioned you quite often. You two seem to be quite good friends."

"I... er, yeah," Zach mumbled, tapping his fingers restlessly against his knees. "She talks about me?"

"Oh, nothing bad," Amy's mother said with a light laugh. "She says that you hold your own in the class you two have together, and have always been kind to her."

"I don't, uh, really do anything special, really." Under normal circumstances, Zach would never have been so redundant or awkward in his speech.

"You're the one who invited her over for Thanksgiving, aren't you?" Elizabeth asked quietly, even though she already knew the answer. "I was away, working-- it's something that will always be a regret, I think, not spending as much time as other parents might with my girl-- but she told me that you brought her to your house so she could celebrate with your family. It was a very kind, considerate thing to do."

"Well, it's a holiday, and she's... she's cool," Zach said lamely. This would perhaps not be the best time and place to let it be known that he didn't really need any special occasion to want to spend time with Dr. Mizuno's very well-brought-up, quiet, sheltered only daughter. "There were lots of people over. I... well, hopefully she had fun."

"She did," A slow, meditative smile much like Amy's crossed Elizabeth's face, and her navy blue eyes met his squarely, as though to tell him that she knew his meaning without any explanations on his part. "You're a very caring and observant young man, I think, so you should know that already. It really was nice for you to invite her, by the way. Many can't see past my girl's intelligence and scholastic ability. I'm afraid that Amy also has a tendency to keep to herself... not the sort to make friends easily. I'm so glad that she's found a true-- and a good-- friend in you."

All right, so there were no pointed questions about his intentions, which was good, but he'd still be an idiot if he didn't remain on his guard. "Uh, well, thanks, I guess, Ms... Dr. Mizuno."

"Elizabeth is fine. And really, Zach, I should be thanking you." At that moment, the phone rang, and she stood up to answer it. A scant two minutes later, she was up again, going back out to pick Greg up. She gave Zach a long look and a smile as she paused by the door. "I'm really glad I got to meet you today. Please, feel free to come by anytime."

"Thanks," Zach watched as Amy's mother took her leave, still awkwardly perched at the very edge of his seat, with an uncomfortable feeling that he was blushing.

He was still blushing somewhat when Amy and Mina came downstairs, and it was halfway through Adam Sandler's antics before he had recovered completely.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Yeah, yeah, this chapter's pitiably short. But if it makes you feel any better, the next one will be up tomorrow! Also, we're past the halfway point on this fic. Stuff will finally start to come together.

Disclaimer: I think everyone has figured this out by now.

* * *

Christmas break passed without much further ado, and afterwards, a new year and semester started at school. Amy found herself, rather to her vexation, thinking more about Mina's suggestion that she and Zach were romantically compatible, but kept silent about it. He made no move that she could construe as overtly non-platonic in intention, and if he was flirtatious with her, it was somewhat a matter of habit and nature for him.

She started taking Art History with Mrs. O'Connor, and found herself enjoying the class. Calm where her son was excitable, guided by rationality in place of emotionalism, it was nevertheless quite apparent where Zach got his skills of observation and unexpected moments of caring from. Not to mention his smile. Not that she thought about such things overly frequently, of course.

January came and went, and February started off without a hitch. On that most commercialised of holidays, as couples all around the school paraded about with heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and carnations bought from the student council, Amy went into Biology class without any expectation that the day would be different for her personally than any other day.

Zach walked in, greeted her by the endearment of "Honey" as usual, and teased her about not wearing pink or red. She contradicted the endearment, also as usual, told him that she didn't look good in those colours, and wondered for only the briefest moment why she felt a twinge of disappointment that he didn't seem to have any plans of giving her anything for the holiday. Which was just ridiculous, of course.

When the teacher started lecturing, Zach avidly scribbled in his notebook, switching back and forth from black to red ink, holding his binder at an angle where she couldn't easily see what he was writing. She paid no mind to it until the end of class, when he tore a sheet of notepaper out of the pad and handed it to her with a crooked grin.

"Happy Pink Day, honey," he said cheekily. "My handwriting sucks, sorry."

There was a heart on the paper, its outline formed by her name written one time after another in red ballpoint pen. Enclosed in the heart was what might constitute a pair of haiku in form but likely would never be found in a published volume.

"Anyone can buy  
Roses or a box of sweets.  
That's a bit cliched.

Honey, I hope that  
Your pink day is almost as  
Awesome as you are."

Around the heart were other crudely drawn emblems of the holiday, though the flowers were little more than little circles surrounding a bigger one. In the upper right hand corner, hovering, there was a smiley-faced stick figure with wings and a bow and wildly curly hair which was probably supposed to be Cupid.

"You spent class time doing THIS?" she said incredulously, trying very hard to sound reproving but not quite succeeding. "I thought you were taking notes. This unit is very important."

"I did study ahead," he promised. "DNA stands for deoxyribose nucleic acid, there are four nitrogenous bases, etc. etc. Double helix, Watson and Crick, all that jazz."

The chapter had gone into more detail than that, but with the way he was looking at her, she could barely remember it herself. Once again-- and it seemed like nowadays she played over that Christmas conversation at least once a day-- she thought about that conversation with Mina, and blushed. "Well, it's a very nice Valentine's day card. Much more creative than those that came in a box with little pink envelopes in the elementary school days. Thank you very much." It also took more effort and thought than the postcards that came like clockwork every year on her birthday and Christmas, and at THAT thought, her heart skipped a beat. "I'll have to see if I can make one, too. I'm not sure if I can do yours justice, though."

"It's the thought that counts, as they say," Zach remarked as he picked up his things. "Well, off to the next class. I'll see you later, honey." He breezed off without giving her a chance to rebuff the nickname.

She carefully tucked the sheet of notepaper in her binder as though it were ancient and valuable parchment, and started off towards her next class as well. About halfway to Mrs. O'Connor's classroom, she saw Mina in the hallway and waved, even though she was afraid that her expression might give her away just a little bit, but before Mina could remark on that, another individual, male and bedraggled and wild-eyed, lurched right into their path.


	18. Chapter 18

It was then that Amy noticed that Mina's smile was forced, and the blonde's fingers were fiddling nervously with the bottom hem of her shirt. Dan Burright, his whole demeanor all but screaming drug use, stalked towards her in the hallway.

"Hey, I wasn't done talking to you, baby. Where you going so fast?"

"Dan, I'm really sorry, but I have to get to class, and I'm flattered that you think th--"

"Bull fucking SHIT." The expletives punctuated the air like angry bullets. Amy, concerned, quickened her footsteps towards the other girl as Dan's hands clenched and unclenched rapidly, nerves jangling with the methamphetamine he'd snorted before class. The boy's speech was slurred, and his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked almost completely black. "You fucking cocktease. All the people who think you're just so nice only think so because you spread your legs for them whenever they want. And yet when I ask you out in a perfectly fucking reasonable way you never have anything to say but hem hem haw haw excuses after excuses and fake smiles. Maybe if you don't spend all your time sucking O'Connor's cock you'd find yourself a real man."

"A real man doesn't talk to a lady that way, nor depends on chemical enhancements to function," Amy interjected, striding across the hallway in a few short steps. Dan Burright's hateful, offensive words spurred her into reckless, angry action. "Mina's personal life is none of your business, and rightly so. With the way you talk and act you couldn't get a toothless leper to touch you with a ten-foot pole. Why don't you give up already? Only lunatics try the same thing over and over again and expect a different res--"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, because Dan Burright, still seething over the Homecoming dance humiliation and flying high on meth, shoved her hard, sending Amy crashing back against a wall of lockers, her head hitting the metal knob of a combination lock with a sickening crack that echoed down the hall like a gunshot as she fell. Mina screamed, and several students came running even as Dan, too far gone to care what he was doing, loomed over her, pulling a foot back to kick her prone form while calling her an interfering bitch at the top of his lungs. Amy, undaunted, struggled into a sitting position and glared right back up at him even as she tried to stand.

He was pulled forcibly away by someone-- she couldn't make out who it was in the stars she was seeing after rapping her head so hard-- and then Mina was kneeling next to her, worried and embarrassed, checking over her frantically for signs of serious injuries while whispering incoherent apologies.

"I'm fine," Amy mumbled even as she glanced down to see a few bruises forming from her hard collision with the floor. When she looked up again, there was another face next to Mina's, framed with golden hair and dominated by calm, observant blue eyes behind wire-frame glasses. Mrs. O'Connor reached out a hand to Amy, her face unsmiling but supportive.

"Go to the office," Kathleen O'Connor's voice was soft and brooked no argument. "You'll need to see a nurse and get yourself back together. And then they'll want you to give them an accounting of what happened."

She mutely nodded even as she made mental changes in her schedule in order to accomodate the necessity of staying after school one day to make up for a missed class period. Standing on legs that were still somewhat shaky, she quietly but firmly refused support from Mrs O'Connor or Mina in getting to the office.

The trip took longer than it would have normally, but the nurse determined that she didn't have anything more serious than a bump on the head and gave her a few bandaids and peroxide wipes. Carefully, the bumps and bruises were dealt with, and Amy took a seat in the main office to wait for the summons from the principal.

Before that happened, the door of the office almost cracked open on its hinges and a sandy-blond whirlwind ran in, fear for the worst visible in every part of his visage. Amy was caught up in a pair of wiry, strong arms and hugged breathless before she could get a word out as the secretary manning the front desk looked distinctly displeased and cleared her throat pointedly.

For the first time in her life, Amy ignored the cues from the authority figure in the desk, and simply held on.

It was an indeterminate amount of time later that she pulled back just far enough to see his face, her heart tripping over more than being shoved and screamed at by a drug-crazed boy who had eight inches and forty pounds on her. "I'm all right," she murmured, not just to reassure him, her fingers gradually loosening from their clench around the material of his shirt. "Zach, I'm all right."

"No the f--" A loud throat-clearing from the secretary glaring at them from the desk recalled him somewhat. "Eff you aren't. Mina told me what happened. What the hell were you thinking, taking him on like that?"

"He was harassing her, and you would've done the same," Amy said slowly. "I hadn't expected him to react quite so violently, no, but there's no harm done. Zach, I promise, I'm all right." Because he didn't seem to have any intention of letting her go, she stepped back herself, and gave him a reassuring smile. "See? I'm just fine."

"You got banged up a bit," he murmured, picking up her hand and examining the bandage on her elbow. "And they said you hit your head. You could have a concussion, you could... dammit, Amy, why aren't you lying down and getting some rest? Head injuries are serious."

"I'm quite hard-headed," she joked, trying to lighten the situation. "Perhaps not as much as you, but I promise, it's nothing."

"Miss Anderson, the principal will see you now," The smiling face of one of the guidance counselors poked out from the inner bowels of the main office. "It shouldn't take too long. Oh, hello, Mr. O'Connor."

"Hello," Zach greeted the woman automatically before turning to Amy with a beseeching look in his bright green eyes. "Hey, Amy, promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Don't walk home today, okay? I know you do it most of the time and you live close and all that, but... I'll drive you. Let me drive you. Please."

She looked up at his face, his expression for once devoid of any humour, and nodded. "Okay."

He looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps, but the counselor was waiting and the secretary looked about ready to throw him bodily out of the office. He gave her hand one last squeeze before leaving.

The meeting with the principal didn't take too long, as numerous witnesses had already described in detail the confrontation that had taken place in the hallway. A search of Dan Burright's locker had turned up chunks of crystal meth, an open fifth of Jack Daniel's and two joints laced with PCP, and expulsion was more or less a foregone conclusion.

She went through the rest of her classes for the day, made arrangements with a sympathetic Mrs. O'Connor to stay after the next day to make up for missing class, and spent her lunch period reassuring people that she was perfectly fine. That afternoon, at the end of classes, she met Zach at the front entrance of the school and he took her books from her without preamble.

"I can carry them, you know," Amy protested feebly, giving him a sidelong glance. "You already have your own books."

"You also got knocked around earlier today and have bandaids on," he said tersely. His curly hair was sticking up every which way from the repeated rake of his fingers, and he had to take a deep breath before turning to her with a veneer of calm over the agitation. "I don't mean to snap at you, honey, but it's kind of hard to get over the fact that you got pushed around by some crazy Crankster today. And it's Valentine's Day, and even though I don't really buy into the whole 'la la la la yay everything's pink' thing, not a good day for people to act nasty to girls and stuff. You know." He shuffled his feet as though slightly embarrassed, and opened the backseat of his car to deposit their books before opening the passenger side door for her. "Here you go. Take a seat, and... hey, hold on just a second." He shut the door, but instead of getting in on the other side like she had anticipated, he jogged away from the car and all the way to the edge of the parking lot.

He returned a few minutes later and met Amy's quizzical gaze with a lopsided grin, and pushed something into her hands. She looked down to see a small spray of pale blue chicory flowers, those hardy plants that grow alongside the road in the summertime, winking up at her like small, periwinkle-coloured stars. "You ran off to pick me some flowers?" she asked, touched.

"Well. There's no florist here, or it'd be something more sophisticated," Zach replied as he got into the driver's seat and buckled up his seatbelt, sneaking a glance at her as he put the key into the ignition. "I mean, it IS Valentine's Day, and you WERE in the nurse's office and that makes you the world's cutest patient, so..."

She could feel her cheeks heating up, so she ducked her head as he pulled into traffic. Several of the girls in school had received carnations that day, but there was something so much more meaningful and special about these simple, commonplace blue flowers that were picked at the spur of a moment, and then again, there was that silly Valentine's Day card he'd made for her, which had made her laugh and blush and... just how much truth was there in that conversation that she'd had around Christmas with Mina?

"All right, here you go," Zach pulled the car into park on her driveway, jolting her from her thoughts. "Let me just get your books for you, hmm? You need to take it easy tonight, don't overdo it. Dammit, if I ever see that kid again I'm going to beat his ass twenty different ways." Once again, his hands raked through his hair, and had he not been seated in the car, he probably would have been pacing. "We should probably call your Mom, yeah? She's a doctor, she'd know what needs to be done. You hit your head, and..."

"Zach." She cut him off midsentence.

"Yeah?"

"I'm all right," Amy said calmly, slowly, and reached out to move his hand away from his head. "You don't need to worry so much about me. You're messing up your hair, do you know?" Unable to resist, she smoothed her own fingers down the soft, unruly locks, and watched his eyes darken, his pulse jump in his throat.

"Oh." The word came out on a slightly shaky exhale, and he plucked one of the chicory flowers out of her other hand and tucked it behind her ear. "Sorry. Not trying to be a jerk around you, I promise. I just... you matter, okay? I don't like seeing you hurt."

The sweetness of the gesture made her heart ache. "You don't need to beat anyone up, okay? Or to worry so much about me. I promise you that I'm fine, though you're sweet to worry."

"I don't think I'm allowed to be mean to anyone on Valentine's Day."

"That's got nothing to do with anything and you know it."

"Okay, you got me." His fingers lingering by her face, he took a deep breath. "I won't freak out or beat anyone up, but I will worry, and you really should go in and get some rest, and call your Mom, and why am I still here talking to you when I should be letting you---"

His sentence was cut off again, but this time by her lips. Shyly but unerringly, her mouth pressed against his, and he froze. There was a song by Seal playing on the radio, soft strains and crooning voice fading away along with the rest of the world as he tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her back, sinking into soft lips and a sea of emotion, his other hand clenched around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he battled for self control.

The flower that he'd tucked behind her ear was drooping down by her neck when she pulled away, and her cheeks were crimson. Wide blue eyes not quite as calm as usual met his. "I... I don't usually do this," she said softly, stumbling a bit over her words. "This isn't like me. But I'm attracted to you. You... you sometimes act like you feel the same way."

"Just sometimes?" he found himself laughing softly at that, and leaned in again. He pecked her lightly on the lips. "I'm one hundred percent, absolutely, batshit insane crazy about you, honey."

"Oh." The blush deepened, and he considered it a point of victory that she didn't refute the endearment. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes with a bit of trepidation. "I am attracted to you, but I'm... I've never really dated before. I'm not very accustomed to this sort of thing. And I'm sort of nervous. Would it be awful of me to tell you that I'd prefer if we took this slowly?"

He had never in his life felt so conflicted before, particularly not over a girl. Worry and elation warred inside of him as he surveyed her face, lips dewy from the kiss, eyes full of apprehension. There was a shallow scrape on the knuckles of the hand still clutching the tiny bouquet of chicory flowers, and he brushed his thumb gently over it before re-adjusting the flower he'd tucked behind her ear. Taking a calming breath, he managed a smile before he spoke.

"We'll take it at whatever pace you feel comfortable with, I promise."

"Thank you," Amy said sincerely before unbuckling her seatbelt. "I should probably go inside. Thank you for everything."

He carried her books for her to the porch, and she remained there, watching him with a small smile on her face, and waved at him as he drove away. He watched her through the rear-view mirror, taking in the delicate form and the flowers she held and the way her hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, until he turned around the corner. He made several wrong turns before he ended up at his own home, and then all but floated into the house.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Not so much shippiness in this chapter, I'm afraid. More character development. But do not worry, there will be more than enough shipping for everyone's satisfaction by the time this fic is through!

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

* * *

At the end of the school day on February 15th, Amy found herself knocking on the door of Mrs. O'Connor's classroom, determined to make up for missing a class period and secretly wondering how much her Art History teacher knew about what happened the afternoon before with her son.

"Come on in," Mrs. O'Connor's calm, harmonious voice came through the slightly ajar door. The teacher looked up with a slight smile as Amy walked in. "I do hope you're feeling better today."

"Much, thanks," Amy replied. The bump on her head had not warranted any sort of treatment aside from a tylenol before bed, and she had worn jeans and a long-sleeved shirt to conceal the scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, but that morning in Biology, Zach had still arrived early enough to make her roll up her sleeves, and run his fingers gently and carefully over her bandaged elbows. Mrs. Adams had arrived before he could steal a kiss, but the intent had been visible in his eyes, and she had blushed and hidden her face behind her book. "Thank you for staying after with me today, by the way."

"It's not a problem," Mrs. O'Connor said amicably. "Shall we get down to business?"

They did, and spent a surprisingly pleasant hour discussing the themes of The Odyssey after looking at and analysing several pictures of Classical Greek sculpture and architecture. Amy glanced down at one of the prints in her textbook, a graceful sculpture of Hermes holding the baby Dionysus, the god's expression serene and his pose fluid and relaxed.

"It's surprising that the same time and place that created such a peaceful, idealised statue as this also created an epic of raw emotions and high adventure, isn't it?" Mrs. O'Connor murmured. "The Greeks' art is a mixture of science and emotion. Their temples are constructed on strict geometric principles and their human figure sculptures pay painstaking attention to proportion, form and anatomical accuracy. Their literature is fantastical, their gods and goddesses as capable of love and hate and mistakes and pettiness as their mortals. One can't be whole without both reason and passion, and this is why their work survives to this day."

Amy nodded, sensing more behind Mrs. O'Connor's words than just an art history analysis. The pen that she'd been using to take notes lay on top of her papers untouched, and she furrowed her brow as she recalled the details of Homer's epic. "Odysseus found a better fate, in the end, than many of his compatriots in the Trojan War. Agamemnon was murdered in his own house, wasn't he? And Achilles died in battle."

"Yes indeed," Mrs. O'Connor smiled. "Odysseus didn't lack his share of troubles, certainly, but his true goal was simple and honourable. After all that time, what he really wanted was just to go home to his wife and son. Not to strut in bearing all manners of spoils from the war, not to wile his days away in the utopian land of the Lotus-eaters or the arms of Circe or Calypso, but... just to go home. It makes him that much more the sympathetic hero."

Amy nodded, and wondered suddenly and unexpectedly if her own father, whom she'd never seen since she was five, ever found his own version of lotus-eating to substitute the home and family he left so willingly behind. The thought remained for only a minute, before Mrs. O'Connor spoke again.

"I'd like to think that Penelope remained faithful the way she was, weaving and unweaving that shroud every day and night, rejecting all the suitors for all those years, because she knew in her heart that Odysseus would return to her. She's a resourceful, intelligent woman, and they're worthy of each other. The Greeks were fond of balance."

The conversation shifted then to the construction of the Parthenon and the fact that the temple had been constructed without the use of any mortar, simply with painstaking measurements and arrangements of marble block so that the roof balanced perfectly on the columns. Amy started to take notes again, ingrained habits kicking in, but in the back of her mind, she mulled over the deeper meaning of Mrs. O'Connor's words.

* * *

It was three days after Dan Burright's expulsion from the high school was official that Amy was approached by another student who'd antagonised her earlier in the school year, but that meeting was rather less hostile.

The infamous anatomy and physiology unit of AP Biology had started just that day with the advent of fetal pigs in the classroom, and quite predictably, had grossed out several of the students. When the plastic buckets, filled with formaldehyde and purplish piglets, had been set down on a table at the front of the classroom, a few of the girls had shrieked.

Amy wasn't one of them, and exhibited no signs of squeamishness over the prospect of dissecting one of the pigs to learn about the different internal organs and systems. She had every intention of becoming a doctor, after all, and this unit was basic and essential knowledge. Zach had promptly christened their pig "Napoleon" after the porcine Communist in Orwell's Animal Farm, but was happy enough to let her take on most of the actual hands-on portion of the next few days' lab work while he took notes.

Therefore, at the conclusion of the first day's foray into the world of fetal pig anatomy, Amy was washing her hands for the third time in quick succession to rid them of the formaldehyde smell. The sound of a soft throat clearing had her looking up, and she saw Megan standing there.

"Can I help you?" she asked the older girl calmly. Megan didn't have her usual sneer in place, and actually looked a little bit apprehensive.

"You know, I was passing by the other day, in the hallway, when that kid attacked you," Megan murmured without preamble. "The druggie who got expelled."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And... well, I just wanted you to know that I thought you handled yourself pretty well, and I would never have expected you to have the balls to talk him down like that." A pause, and Megan twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers. "I guess I can see why Zach's so crazy about you."

Amy had no reply for that, but her blush gave her away, and Megan's lips curved in a smirk even as she sighed. "He'd never been so crazy about anyone before, I mean, just so you know, since... yeah. And if he'd ever been so interested in me, you'd not have a chance."

"I know," Amy found her voice, and surprisingly, a bit of sympathy for the other girl. "I... he's a good guy."

"That he is. We should get going before Morticia kicks us out." Megan picked up her books and made her way towards the classroom door. "Hang in there."

"Thank you," Amy said sincerely as she turned off the water faucet and wiped her hands clean with paper towels.

It was good to work out another conflict. That afternoon, as she went about her business at the library, her steps and demeanour were noticeably lighter. Mrs. Lennox, the matronly librarian manning the circulation desk, smiled indulgently as she passed by. Later on, when Zach picked her up at the door (which he'd insisted on doing on her days of volunteering even though the library was walking distance from her home), she greeted him with a smile. He smiled back and laid a proprietary hand on her back as they walked out together, and she leaned against him slightly.

"Good day today, honey?" he asked as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space.

"I'm not honey, but... yes. Quite."

"We still on for studying, my place, tomorrow?" He asked this with a slight bit of trepidation, because while their relationship had definitely changed, they hadn't really been alone together since that day. Amy glanced at him, seeing just a hint of nerves on his face as he pulled to a stop in front of a light, and smiled to herself.

"Definitely. I'll meet you at the front entrance after classes."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Some plot to be had in this chapter! But before all that, since everyone's been so nice, some fanservice in the form of A/Z fluff. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

There was a very long, very ugly list of Spanish verb conjugations on the sheet of paper staring up at him in all its accusatory black-and-white Times New Roman font. Zach skimmed through it for the fifth time, and once again found his attention straying before he got halfway down the list. A few feet away, curled up in his desk chair, was the object of his affection and observation. Amy had a slight furrow in between her brows as she worked through a page of Calculus problems at a steady, methodical pace. Now and again, as she puzzled through the fascinating world of Integrals, she would tap the eraser end of her mechanical pencil against her bottom lip before resuming her writing.

They had arrived at his house about two and a half hours ago, to work on Biology together. That had been finished a while ago, but he had offered her the desk so she could finish her other homework there as well, with the reasoning that it would be a waste of time for her to leave it half-done and have to do it after she got home as opposed to finishing it all over here. She had agreed to this logic, and proceeded to get to work without further ado.

He had done the same, with numerous breaks to watch her at work, and maybe she was starting to feel his gaze on the back of her neck, because she turned around and her cheeks were red. "Are you done?"

"Basically, kind of," Zach leaned back against his headboard and grinned. "Did you know that you were biting your lip as you read through Of Mice And Men?"

"I was... Zachary O'Connor, why are you watching me study?" Indignant and pouting somewhat, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at him. "Don't you have your own homework to do?"

"Yeah, I did most of it," he told her, all injured innocence as he got up. "I mean, it's not really my fault that you're really really cute. And distracting. And if you keep pouting I'm going to have to kiss you."

"Oh." She dipped her head bashfully, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She didn't pull away, though, and leaned into his side just a bit. "You must feel like I am very naive," she murmured. "Maybe I am, about this sort of thing. It's just that I've never really known the likes of you before. Particularly in this sort of situation."

"I'm glad I'm unique, and it's flattering that you're here then," Zach brushed his lips against her temple. "For what it's worth, I've never known anyone like you either. And... take it however you will, I don't think I've ever felt the same way about another girl before, either." He sat back down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. "You can sit. I'm not going to jump you, I promise."

There was the blush again, but she did sit down, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean back and cuddle her against his side. He kept his arm around her lightly and gradually felt her relax. She smelled like girl shampoo and minty chapstick. The Spanish worksheet lay forgotten at his feet.

"So, did you hear that Mina's succeeding Darien as the local Little League coach when summer vacation rolls around?" Zach asked after a few minutes of silent contentment. "He applied to all kinds of out-of-state schools and probably won't be around to play ball this summer. She'll do pretty well, I think."

"That's lovely for Mina. The Little League plays in the park down the street from here, right?"

"Yep," Zach answered. "I'll be seeing a lot of her there this summer. The pool's going to open after Spring Break, and I'll work there part-time after school lets out." He turned slightly to face her as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Hey, maybe you should look into that, too. I mean, if lifeguarding's your thing. They've a few openings, since a lot of the old crew's going off and away. You're definitely qualified, I think."

She mulled this over silently, and a slow smile crossed her lips. "It would be a good experience, wouldn't it?"

"Definitely." Of course, the idea of seeing her in a bathing suit every day was exhilarating and torturous all at once, but he didn't think she'd want to hear that. "Talk to Coach, he'll rec you and tell you about it. Or Michelle, for that matter. She did it last year."

"I will," Amy promised, before leaning over and cupping his face in her hands. Carefully and deliberately, she brushed a kiss just transcending chaste over his lips before standing back up and retreating to the desk chair again. "Okay. I think you should finish your homework now."

He sighed theatrically and thumped a fist over his heart. "What a woman."

* * *

After a quick discussion with the swim teach's coach and a conversation with her mother, who heartily approved of healthy, gainful employment, Amy put in an application at the park for lifeguarding over the summer. Life seemed to settle down a bit, after the drama caused by Dan Burright, and while she spent half her afternoons at Zach's house these days, their relationship progressed at a slow, comfortable sort of pace. On occasion they'd eat out together, but never at any place so fancy or formal that it would feel like a date, and acquiescing to her sense of independence, he let her pay for herself most of the time.

The awkwardness that had stood between her and Greg also vanished somewhat. He didn't mention anything outside of friendship, and she never mentioned Zach around him, but he seemed to understand nonetheless and wish her the best. Determined that he'd close out his school year with a positive experience for his foreign exchange, Amy made a point to spend time with him whenever both of them were at home.

One weekend in mid-March, when she got home from Zach's house after finishing up a lab report, she found the house empty and the answering machine flashing. Mechanically, she pressed the replay button.

The first message was from the management at the park, following up on her application and inviting her in for an interview. Feeling a small frisson of excitement, she jotted down the name of the caller and the telephone number before going onto the next message.

"Hello, princess. Guess I caught you out today." The voice, through the answering machine's recorder, was deep and slightly scratchy, that of a quiet man who didn't often communicate, verbally or otherwise. "I guess you two still live here... the answering machine recording still sounds the same. If you want to, please give me a call." The number that was recited then was copied down rather less steadily than the first, and then Amy turned off the answering machine without playing any more messages and picked up the phone.

She dialed the second number with shaky fingers and took a seat at the kitchen counter. It took three rings before he picked up.

"Hello?" The voice, absent but friendly enough, was still familiar after all these years.

"Daddy." Funny, wasn't it, she thought detachedly as the word left her lips. She hadn't called him that- hadn't thought of him that way, since he'd left all those years ago. She was too old for such a term, really, but old habits died hard. "It's me."

"Amy," His voice warmed just a notch, and she wondered if he smiled on the other side of the line. "Princess, it's been a long time since I've heard your voice. You sound all grown up now. Less of a little girl."

"Yes, I've grown some since you've seen me last," Amy found herself saying wryly, the slight bitchiness of the words hitting her only after she'd already uttered them. "Well, you know what I mean."

"I know, and you've grown quite pretty in the meantime," Claude Anderson's voice held the sort of vague, dreamlike approval that artists always had for beauty. "Your mother sends me a photo every year. I've kept them all."

"I've kept all your sketches and postcards," Amy found herself telling him, even as a part of her wanted to ask him why he would think that sheets of printed paper were a substitute for the emptiness he'd left in their home, the abandonment that a precocious, lonely daughter might have felt at his departure. "I didn't think you'd call."

"Work... it's kept me busy, and on the move more often than not." His voice was still smooth and calm, but she could recognise a subtle hint of shortness in it. It was a trick that she employed as well, something that up until now she had never been ashamed of. "Recently, though, I've had something of a breakthrough. This summer shall be very exciting, with tours across Europe. Which is why I wanted to call you today."

"Oh?"

"It would please me very much to see you again, and make up a little for all the times that I've missed being with you." The words and tone were so gentle, so courteous. "If you would like to accompany me in Europe while I'm on tour, princess, I would be very honoured. My patrons are flexible about the timing- there will be numerous stops all around the world from now until August- it would be a simple matter to meet up with you and then drop you back home whenever you wish. Of course, all your expenses would be provided for."

A summer in Europe! Having a coffee and a baguette in a Parisian cafe. Hearing the chimes of Big Ben in London. Seeing the temples of Greece and the fountains of Rome. Rowing down a gondola in the moonlight in Venice. Watching an opera in Vienna. That sort of opportunity did not come every day.

Furthermore, neither did the opportunity to actually see her father face-to-face.

It was just on the tip of her tongue to agree, and then she happened to glance down, noticing the other name and number she had jotted down from the earlier message from the park's management about the lifeguarding position, and suddenly she paused and thought about it.

"I've already made some commitments for the summer," she found herself telling him, her voice steady with conviction. "I've decided to honour them."

"Oh." His voice was only slightly crestfallen. "Well, it would still be nice if I got to see you sometime. Do you have any breaks coming up? Long weekends or the like? We can keep it somewhat local."

"I have Spring Break next month," Amy told him formally. "And would be glad to visit you if that is what you'd like."

"I would love that," he reassured her. "I'll be in New York around then. I can call your mother and we can work something out, hmm?"

A part of Amy, a rather new part that was more savvy to the feelings between men and women, frowned at that idea. "Hmm, I can ask her about it and give you a call back. How about that?"

"That will be perfect. I look forward to hearing from you again, princess. And to seeing you."

"All right. I'll talk to you later, dad."

Amy hung up the phone, carefully got up from the stool at the kitchen counter, and poured herself a glass of water. He sounded the same, down to the way he always called her 'Princess', and it was as though nothing had changed, no years had passed, none of it mattered. He hadn't asked about her mother, or, really, about herself. She wondered if he would recognise her if it weren't for the photos he had.

Picking up the phone again, she dialed the number of the park management.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: So, this chapter and the next few will focus mostly on Amy, and what we can probably call her "Daddy issues". But do not worry, such things will be resolved eventually! And after that, I will get back to the fanservice :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

It was only after Amy had successfully acquired the summer job position at the park's swimming pool that she made arrangements to visit her father over Spring Break. She made the point of taking care of the majority of communications with her father herself rather than leaving it to her mother, and by the end of the week, she had her flight booked and most of the necessary preparations taken care of.

It was about a week after her father had called that she informed Zach of the upcoming trip.

"New York City? Really?" He set down the biology notes and looked at her with just a tiny bit of consternation. "For the whole week?"

"Yes... well, sort of. You know school lets out after a half-day on Thursday before the Easter weekend. My plane leaves Friday morning at half-past nine, and I'll come back the following Thursday afternoon around two." She closed her Calculus book and watched bemusedly as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll be home for a few days before school starts up again, you know. And New York's not the end of the world."

"I know, I know." The hair-raking continued, but he managed a smile. "I'm happy for you, really. I know it's important to you... I know you've not seen your dad in a while. It's a good thing that you'll get to see him soon."

"Do you really think so?" Some part of her must have picked up on his inner unease at the situation, and she got up from his desk chair and walked towards his bed. He automatically made room for her and she sat down at the edge of it, reaching over and gently tugging his hand away from his head. "You're going to look like a crazy person if you keep messing your hair up."

"I am a crazy person," he mumbled, grasping her wrist and tugging her down next to him on the bed. She landed against his chest with an oof and a slightly affronted look, which made him smile somewhat. "I kind of sort of like you a lot. And stuff. So I'm supposed to worry that you're going to meet some really slick fast-talking New Yorker and come back and tell me in your oh-so-polite way that you think of me as a brother. You know."

She gave him a slight shove and glared, and he laughed and pulled her close. He didn't really mention that he was truly more worried about the visit with her father, how it would inevitably sadden her after it was over, and he'd rather just not see her grieving for anyone who didn't deem it worth their time to care about her. Either the visit would go well and she'd miss her father even more when she got back, or the visit would go poorly and she'd be full of resentment at what shouldn't be that way... and he didn't want her to be sad at all.

Gradually, she relaxed, and reached up to smooth back his hair. "I'll buy you a souvenir from New York."

"I could get behind having a green plastic Lady Liberty crown," he joked. "Hide the crazy hair and all." Sobering, he pulled back far enough to meet her eyes. "Will you call now and again? Particularly if you get bored or if there are any slick fast-talking New Yorkers hitting on you and stuff?"

Her mouth dropped open at that and she cocked her head to the side. "What would you do if there were any slick fast-talking New Yorkers hitting on me, dare I ask? Not that such a thing would ever happen, of course."

"Get my dad to pull strings and take the first flight out and tell the slick fast-talking New Yorker to lay off my girl," he told her, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "And they so will hit on you, too. Bet you twenty dollars."

"Why...! No. I'm not participating in any crazy bets." With excessive dignity, she straightened and raised her chin. "That is absurd."

"Okay. No money. I'll still win, just so you know," he told her seriously. "You don't see yourself how I see you."

The way he said it softened her enough that she lay back down on his bed and cuddled with him for a good ten minutes before going back to work, but perhaps it was inevitable that he'd sport crazy koosh-ball-looking hair for a few days afterwards. Mina, whom he undoubtedly confided in, gave Amy a few sympathetic glances and wished her a good trip.

She did look forward to it, and despite any nerves or misgivings, to seeing her father again for the first time in so many years. Nonetheless, perhaps to comfort and reassure herself as much as him, she found herself exchanging text messages with Zach in the airport terminal and later, on the airplane, up until the in-flight personnel directed all electronic devices to be turned off as the plane readied for take-off.

* * *

"Amy!"

The man who greeted her at the airport was not quite as she remembered. Where her father had worn chinos and button-downs with the sleeves rolled up over paint-speckled arms, this man was something of a stranger. Claude Anderson had grown his hair long, and it was tied back in a loose black ponytail. His jeans were faded and ripped at the knee, and he wore expensive wire-frame glasses. He smiled and stepped forward as Amy approached him.

"Dad." She let him envelope her in a hug, wondering why it didn't feel as fulfilling as she thought it would, and held on for a few moments to let go of the disappointment. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, princess," He murmured as he stepped back to take a good look at her. "You're beautiful. I always knew you would be."

He hadn't been around for the awkward years, when she hadn't yet grown into her limbs and was the painfully shy nerd in the back of the classroom trying not to stand out any more than she already did by dint of taking advanced classes. He didn't know that she had spent about an hour earlier during the day texting a boy whom she was kind-of-sort-of dating back and forth before the plane had taken off. He certainly hadn't been around to do the stereotypical shotgun and rocking chair thing that fathers were rumoured to do when their daughters started noticing the opposite sex. Amy shut her thoughts off with a click and smiled up at him. "You look different."

"I probably should have worn a beret to go with the artist image," he joked as he picked up her carry-on. "Let's go get your things, and then we can take a cab back to my place. We can catch up on the way."

They did that, and Amy filled him in on the bare bones of her life these days. He was flatteringly attentive in the way of a patient barkeep listening to a stranger's life story, and she kept most of the conversation about her classes and such. He didn't think to ask about her friends or about boys, so she didn't mention anything to that regard.

They arrived at his loft, which was spacious and airy and bright with skylights and floor-to-ceiling windows. He had foregone carpet in favour of glossy, black marble tiles that set a striking contrast to the stark white of the walls and chilled her bare feet when she stepped inside. The furniture was minimalist, chrome and glass and white leather, the sharp sleekness of it balancing the riot of colours that came from the paintings and sculptures on display in every room. Amy's detail-oriented eye recognized some of the work as her father's, but a good portion of it certainly wasn't. She also noticed an exotic, artful bouquet of tropical flowers: white calla lilies and vivid birds of paradise set against sprays of greenery and insolent purple orchids arranged in a blue blown-glass vase, and a pair of yellow bird-shaped earrings on an end table.

So he had a girlfriend. It didn't come as a shock to her, and what surprised her more, didn't hurt her either. Amy remained silent as her father gave her a tour of his loft before leading her to the guest bedroom that would be hers for the duration of her stay. It had carpet, to her relief, and glossy black lacquered furniture decorated in an almost Oriental style with gold tracery and mother-of-pearl inlay.

"Do you like the room?" Her father's voice broke through her musings. "A friend helped me pick out the furniture for this place."

"She's got good taste," Amy reassured him gravely. He did not outwardly react to her assumption that it was a woman who'd helped him out, but she let it slide. "I'll just go ahead and unpack."

"All right," Her father gave her a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "I'll leave you to it. And you can rest a bit, I know how taxing plane rides can be. Later on we'll go out for dinner and a night on the town. How's that sound to you?"

"That's great," she smiled faintly and placed her carry-on bag on the bed. He nodded, and she watched him walk out the door and shut it gently behind his back.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Brief but important chapter! Slightly on the angsty side, but... hey. It happens. And yes, it is canon that Ami hates yellowtail tuna sushi. Next chapter will be up very soon!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

They had dinner together at a small but upscale Japanese restaurant not too far from her father's loft. A serene hostess in an elaborate kimono greeted them with a bow at the lacquered doors, and ushered them to a low table lit with a tea-light inside a small paper lantern. Amy had never sat on a mat on the floor for dinner, but she was intrigued by the ambience and gazed about her curiously.

"It will just be you and me today, princess," her father smiled at her across the table. "The food here is good- don't know if you're too familiar with Japanese cuisine- but the chefs are very skilled and the presentation is exquisite."

"I'm not too familiar with Japanese cuisine," Amy smiled wryly. "I have to admit that I live on sandwiches most days. Maybe you should order for me since you probably know more about it."

He agreed, and she enjoyed the miso soup and tangy seaweed salad. The yellowtail tuna sushi was another matter, but she gamely washed it down with several swallows of green tea. Her father kept up most of the conversation through the course of the meal, and talked a bit about the wealthy Italian count who had commissioned a whole line of his works and made him the toast of Milan. Amy found herself genuinely glad for him, and yet left with the feeling that his lifestyle had absolutely no common ground with her own.

"You live here, though? In the loft, I mean. When you're not in Europe."

"It seemed the right thing to do to have a place to hang my hat that I could come back to," her father answered complacently. "New York's upbeat, diverse, a never-ending source of inspiration. It's also a convenient jumping-off point for any travels, so it works well."

Georgia hadn't worked well for him, and neither had the limits and constraints of sedate matrimony and raising a child. Amy wondered if her father only summoned her now because he thought that she was grown up enough, independent enough, that he'd not have to pay her too much mind. Perhaps a little girl demanded too much time and attention which otherwise would be devoted to art and the muse. She twisted the napkin in her lap and quietly finished her cup of bitter tea. "Am I as you expected, in every way, dad?" she asked softly.

He seemed surprised at the question. "I beg your pardon?"

Wide blue eyes that she'd inherited from her mother stared up into his hazel ones. "When you picked me up today, were you disappointed at all at what you saw?"

Shock and bemusement filled his face. "Of course not, princess. You were so self-sufficient, so together. A lot of teenagers I see are temperamental, immature creatures with frivolous interests." A vague expression of pride not pronounced enough to be completely paternal tinged the smile that crossed his lips. "You've grown up to be a beautiful, intelligent, mature young lady. However could I be disappointed in you?"

It was what she expected, and it was that thought that she kept in her mind when reminding herself not to be disappointed by it. She gave him the mechanically polite smile she typically employed around casual acquaintances and choked down another piece of sushi. "You know, this restaurant does have very elegant decor. I see why you like it here."

"There's a row of cherry trees planted outside," he told her with a smile. "In another few weeks, they'll be in bloom. It's too bad that you'll miss that."

Amy thought of the magnolias that grew in profusion in the yards of Zach's neighbours in Georgia, and smiled to herself. "You can send me a picture of them if you'd like, when they bloom."

He ordered them some lychee sorbet for dessert, and she sampled the sweet, ice-white confection and pronounced it delicious. After their meal, they took a walk down the brilliant streets- a successful, fashionably bohemian artist trailed by a girl in a simple black dress with a world of hidden thoughts and sorrows in the depths of her eyes- and Amy focused on the new and the interesting and the mind-provoking. New York was still hectic despite the hour, buildings and lights and street signs crowded in an urban jumble, and she fought to keep up with its pace.

"Tired, honey?"

Her father's voice was kind and low-pitched and politely detached, and hearing him use Zach's endearment hurt somehow more than anything else. It was strange that one word could so quietly and quickly break her heart when she'd calmly weathered years of neglect. She paused, staring down at the gray concrete of the sidewalk, and when she managed to look up this time, her smile was pained.

"I don't think I'm used to walking in these shoes," she pointed to the two-inch heels she wore to go with the dress. "I don't usually wear them." It was a weak excuse, but that at least would explain the gleam of moisture in her eyes.

He deferentially slowed his pace and paused at the curb. "Oh, why didn't you tell me so? Let me just call us a cab, and we can get on back to my place. You must be tired."

She didn't speak on the cab ride home, and perhaps he didn't expect her to. When they got back to his loft, she politely requested the use of a shower, locked the door, and turned the hot water on full blast. She didn't come back out until the water ran cold and she had no more tears to cry.

She retreated to her exquisitely decorated, terribly impersonal room. Her cell phone was there on the nightstand, plugged into the wall charger. She'd not deemed it polite to bring such a thing with her to dinner. There were ten new text-messages: two from Mina and the rest from Zach. Curling up on the bed, she read through them all, and eventually fell asleep with the phone still clutched in her hand.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: As promised, the next chapter! There is some gratuitous Twilight mocking, sorry to those who are fans. Zach claims not to be a fan, but you really can't expect him to be, right?

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

Because she was of the firm belief that polite people did not call others with non-emergency situations after a decent hour at night, and also because she feared that he might realize that she'd been crying and ask a lot of questions about it, Amy waited until the next day to call Zach.

He picked up on the first ring, even though it was about nine in the morning and she had a vague impression that students on spring break usually slept til noon. "Hey, Amy," his voice sounded in her ear, warm and alert and smoother than the clipped tones of New York City natives, and she found herself relaxing minutely. "Sleep well?"

"I guess so," she answered, remembering how the phone had remained in her hand all night, an unconventional comfort object. "I got your messages last night, but it was too late to call."

"'Tis never too late for a pretty lass to call, and I'll be grateful if you remember it," He slipped into Irish brogue, and she almost laughed. "Top o' the mornin' to you, by the way. Sure and now I'm curious about the exciting evening you must've had."

"It wasn't all that exciting," Amy murmured, a bit of last night's sorrow breaking through in her voice. "My father and I went to dinner at a Japanese restaurant. They had good salad and soup and dessert, but I'm not too fond of yellowtail sushi, I have discovered. It was a very classy restaurant. The hostess wore a kimono and there were cherry trees outside."

He waited for her to go on, and she sighed, her breath hitching slightly even though she tried to control it. "And oh, Zach, he has no room for me in his life. He's got it all figured out, and everything's perfect for him, and he likes things fast-paced and constantly in motion and exciting. He lives in a loft that has marble floors and I know he has a girlfriend, but he's not even seen fit to tell me about her, because I'm not enough of a presence in his life that I'd need to know. He cares about me, sort of, in his way, but he doesn't know me at all. And I think that if he were to, he'd find me boring. And..." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, waiting for her breath to even out. "And I'm being very rude. I'm sorry, I don't mean to incoherently rant at you. How have you been?"

"Lonely without you," came the answer, spoken quite seriously. "I told you that you should've packed me in with your luggage. So what are your plans for today?"

"We'll be doing the tourist thing... I'll buy you some souvenirs," she answered. "I have a sneaking suspicion that I may meet his girlfriend, due to the fact that he said yesterday during dinner that last night was just for the two of us, which leads me to believe that the rest of the days may not be." She didn't want to dwell on it, though, and moved her mind to other things. "So you've been up to absolutely nothing? For Spring Break?"

"Oh, of course we've been up to something. Nothing good, but something. Easter's coming up and it's like an egg farm got transplanted into the kitchen of Casa O'Connor." He rushed on as though determined to distract her. "Do you think purple dye is permanent? I got some on my eyebrows by accident. I'm not quite sure how I missed the rest of my face and only got my eyebrows. I'm sure it's Susannah's fault because everything is."

"Zach, not everything is your sister's fault," Amy chided him. "How did you get purple dye on your eyebrows?"

"She walked in as I was helping Junior open up a canister thing of purple dye and made a comment about some really popular book series about sparkly pink vampires or something and it sounded like horrible tripe to me so I rubbed my hand over my face and now I got amazing purple eyebrows! So you see, it is totally her fault!"

"Well, I'm fairly sure egg dye isn't permanent. They wouldn't let kids play with it if it was," Amy told him solemnly. She felt better just listening to him. "Is that what you are doing right now?"

"Nah, that was yesterday. Right now I've strategically retreated to my room because I'm sure Suse and Lou are giggling about said sparkly pink vampires downstairs at this very moment since there was the inevitable YAY SCHOOL IS OUT FOR A WEEK LET'S SPEND THE WEEK BOTHERING ZACHY sleepover last night. I admit that I never figured Dracula as pink or sparkly, and even the Sesame Street Count, who is about as unscary as an undead bloodsucking ghoul can possibly be, isn't either of those things. I'm not sure I want to know any more about this subject, so I'm trying to avoid dealing with that until I absolutely have to. But it's okay, because also in the spirit of the holiday, I have about a metric fuckton of Jelly Bellies, and they're good. I may end up as sugar-high as Junior by the end of the day, but hey, it will be worth it."

"Just make sure you brush your teeth afterwards," she told him. "Are you finished mocking popular young adult fiction?"

"Are you feeling better yet?" he asked in return. "Because I can talk about other stuff if you aren't. I saw the worst pickup line on the internet the other day. 'Let's add you and me, subtract clothing, divide legs and multiply.' What would you have done if I said that to you?"

"Probably hit you over the head with my copy of Campbell's Biology," she answered, but it drew a laugh out of her. "Bad pick-up lines aside, it's really good to talk to you. Thank you."

"So you feel a bit better, yeah? Try to focus on the cool stuff as opposed to the shitty, hmm? And if things don't pan out with your dad, you can always have mine. He likes you. Thinks you're really pretty and sweet and blush a lot. Which you do, which is kind of adorable."

"I am not adorable," she contradicted him, though she felt her cheeks heat up as though on cue. "I really do miss you."

"You can always pretend you have a fatal disease that can only be cured if you return to a smog-less environment!" he suggested, and she could all but hear his grin in his voice. "And, you know, get hugged a lot and stuff."

"I'll keep that in mind," she told him with a smile. In the distance she heard the sounds of movement down the hallway. "I should probably get going, hmm? Go wash purple dye off your eyebrows, Zach."

"Of course. I'll text you later. Hang in there, honey. Okay?"

"Okay... honey." After a moment's thought she used his own endearment on him. "I'll talk to you later."

She clicked the phone off and this time around, stuck it in the pocket of her jeans. Brushing her hair and stepping into her sensible ballet flats, she emerged from her room and walked towards the direction of the kitchen.

There was a woman there, a tall, rather angular figure clad in what could only be described as a beaded macrame poncho over a flowing dress that bled with vivid colours like a computer-generated sunset. Her long feet were bare underneath the dress's hem and adorned with jingling golden anklets, and her hair, loosely tied back at the nape of her neck, was dyed a blonde so pale it was almost the same shade as the egg-shell she was cracking against the kitchen counter. She turned at Amy's entrance and her full, red-dyed lips curved into a smile.

"Oh, you must be Claude's little girl. I'm Clemence. Clemence Oriole Day." Her voice was breathy and airy-fairy and she ended her words with a light giggle. "Goodness, but you're a pretty one. Such beautiful blue eyes. Really, if mermaids were real... well, enough about that for the time being. I'm an artist, mostly acrylics though occasionally I dabble in watercolour. I can't sculpt to save my life, more's the pity. It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure we'll be lovely friends. Claude didn't tell me what you liked for breakfast, but I thought that for such a special occasion as visiting New York for the first time, it'd be best to go with something festive. I usually have a carrot-dragonfruit-walnut smoothie and a bagel, but I'm making egg-white omelettes today. Is that all right with you?"

Amy, eyes wide and stricken speechless by this ramble, could only nod. At that moment, though, the cell phone in her pocket vibrated to signal that there was a new text-message received. She knew, even without looking, that it was from Zach, and felt a little strengthened. She sat down at the kitchen counter and watched Clemence whisk egg-whites and managed a faint smile. "It's all right with me. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Day."

"Oh, Clemence, _si vous plait_. And would you prefer acai juice or vanilla soy milk with your omelette today, dearie? Coffee is SO unhealthy."

Amy opted for acai juice and kept silent as Clemence rambled on about art and the benefits of all-organic diets and resisted the urge to point out that by scientific definition, "organic" compounds where those based of carbon, which technically included all food items. Under the table, she took out her cell phone and read Zach's text message of "hey forgot to tell u happy easter 2mrw but ill text u b4 then too lol" even as her father entered the kitchen and Clemence immediately engaged him in a request that his pretty little girl sit for her so that she could attempt to adequately depict the previously-pontificated-upon beautiful blue eyes. She ate her egg-white omelette without tasting it and texted a properly capitalized and punctuated "You, too. Thank you." to Zach under the table.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: More character development, a cameo by another character, and... yes, the name of Winston Newport III is deliberate :P. I have a weird sense of humour, deal with it. Also, the hipster mod alternative bands are real. Thank you, wikipedia!

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything.

* * *

The showing of her father's work started at half-past nine on Saturday night, and the ambience of the art gallery was a flawless mix of the classy and the avant-garde. A string quartet played in the corner, the members clad in electric blue tuxedo jackets and trousers over stark white shirts, the music's style falling between classical and new age. Caterers discreetly mingled with the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and delicate little canapes. The lighting came from special halogen lamps that gleamed brightly blue-white and cold as starlight against the high ceilings, and here and there fountains of fiber-optic light displays splashed rosettes of colour against the floor. Her father stood in the middle of it, a roguish silver hoop in one ear, his sleek tail of black hair lying against a gunmetal gray shirt of some material with a dull sheen like brushed titanium. Clemence, her long body clad in a sheath of bright green geometric print with a frayed, asymmetrical hem, glittered with dozens of thin gold bangles on both arms and a metallic girdle made of interlinking golden loops. Her pale hair was done up in an elaborate arrangement that undoubtedly required a good hour of meticulous salon work and a fistful of bobby pins, and earrings made from real peacock feathers dangled to her bare, angular shoulders.

Amy, who had gone shopping earlier that day, wore a new dress, knee-length and so dark a blue it was almost black. It had been a reasonably priced Calvin Klein that fit her to a nicety, simple enough in design that it'd be versatile and classy enough, in her mind, that it would be suitable for any number of formal events. There didn't seem to be a point to buy a nice dress that one would only wear once, but now, here in this gallery full of New York's City's elite and ultra-sophisticated, she felt like a very small, very drab sparrow surrounded by peacocks.

She would not have minded just fading into the background and watching the air-kisses and clusters of glitterati immersed in polite small talk, but there was a massive portrait of herself prominently on display amidst all the other artwork. It was stylized and somewhat abstract; the girl in the portrait was emerging from a turbulent sea and had a mermaid fin running down like a frill down her back, but nevertheless clearly recognizable. Amy recognized the pose, almost the individual drops of water sluicing down her shoulders and arms, from a photograph that her mom had taken at one of her swim meets which must have ended up in her father's possession. Because of the painting now, every once in a while, she would be approached by smug society matrons in diamonds and pearls or flashy artist types, all of whom wanted to meet the muse, and it was mortifying.

"Excuse me," A tenor male voice interrupted her latest attempt to blend into the wall, and Amy looked up to see a young man clad in what was obviously the correct and proper fashion for the artistic crowd staring down at her with some approximation of a smile. "Ah, I definitely see the resemblance now. It's grander than you are, of course, but fantasy art often is larger than life. My name is Winston. Winston Newport the third, if we must be specific. And you're Mr. Anderson's daughter, hmm? Charmed."

His eyes were medium brown and impersonal behind meticulously highlighted, piecey bangs. It was the sort of hairstyle usually seen on alternative rock musicians and probably cost hundreds of dollars. Amy shook the hand he held out, and his fingers were cold. She manufactured a smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Amy."

"I'm told you live in Georgia." The name of her state was spoken haltingly, as though the location was a bit of an anomaly to him. "That's very quaint. How are you enjoying New York?"

"It's very exciting," she answered, for lack of a better term. "I've never been to a gallery showing before. The music is quite good."

She could practically feel every particle of him freeze in surprise, from the highlights in his hair to the bottom cuffs of his tight jeans. "_Really._" The single word had a tone of almost-accusation and the force of a bullet. "I couldn't imagine what I'd do were it not for gallery openings and indie bands here in the city. You should visit around, experience life a little while you're here." Now there was a glint of something in his eyes as he chortled. "I'd be happy to show you around if you're interested. The fact that you're the muse of that painting will undoubtedly open doors for you that otherwise might be barred. My parents are buying the painting, by the way. Its colouring goes perfectly with the drawing room's decor. So of course you can understand why I just had to come over to meet you."

"I see," Amy answered coolly. The situation was getting as surreal as some of the artwork depicted on the walls around her. How could this Winston Newport III manage to both express interest in her and patronise her so thoroughly all at once? It made no logical sense. "I don't know that I'm nearly as exciting and wonderful as your new painting. As you said yourself, fantasy art is often larger than life."

"Anyone who inspires art must be more than meets the eye," Winston Newport III remarked glibly. "A few of my friends and myself plan on going to a concert tomorrow night. The Dinner Is Ruined is playing and Margot & the Nuclear So-and-So's is opening for them. You should come with us, I'm sure you'll have a fabulous time."

She had never heard of either group and politely mentioned as much, and a new level of shock entered Winston Newport's voice.

"Oh... that's perfectly awful. I suppose there's just mainstream groups to listen to where you come from, like The White Stripes and Muse and the like. Then you absolutely must come. It doesn't do for anyone to be so sheltered."

"Oh THERE you are!" A new voice, female this time, broke through any comment Amy might have made, and both she and Winston Newport III turned their heads as a girl wearing a stunning dress in red satin clicked over on stiletto heels. This newcomer was a vision, with a sheaf of raven hair and a face that might have graced the cover of Teen Vogue. "You," she addressed Winston Newport III with an oddly bossy dismissiveness, "Your father was looking for you. It seemed to be urgent. And... Ms. Anderson, yes? Would you mind terribly if I stole you for a moment?"

The question was spoken more like a demand, but there was something genuine and warm in the girl's violet eyes and Amy found herself nodding. "Call me Amy, please."

"I'm Raye Harcourt, and it's nice to meet you." The other girl reached for her arm and gently pulled her towards the direction of the ladies' room, and as soon as they were out of earshot, sneered at the retreating back of Winston Newport III. "Oh God. How could you have gone so long without kicking him somewhere vital and delicate? What a pretentious dick."

"I'm sure he means well," Amy mumbled, though she sounded doubtful to her own ears. "Do you know him?"

"Sadly I do, but that's beside the point. You looked like you were either about to kill yourself or kill him, and that's a nice dress," Raye grinned mischievously as she pushed the door of the ladies' room open. "Pity to get blood on it, you know?"

Something about the girl's forceful honesty made Amy relax at long last. "Thanks. This... really isn't my scene."

"I can tell," Raye said with a hint of true sympathy. "Your dad's a decent artist, but if you're not used to this sort of thing, it can be a bit daunting."

"I've never been to a showing before, and it's like everyone can tell. Everyone's been asking me how I feel about inspiring creativity, and really I didn't even do anything," Amy's breath huffed out and she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. "My mom sent my dad a photograph of me coming out of the pool at a swim meet and, all right, so he paints his own version. There's quite a few other paintings here, too. I don't really see why everyone's harping on that one, and besides, I'm just a normal person. I'm not some mythical sea goddess."

"You won't find faker and more irritatingly pretentious people than at a party like this," Raye said matter-of-factly. "But don't let it get to you. Want to talk about it? I'm a terrible listener and like to interrupt, but I won't patronize or laugh."

"There's not too much to say except that I'm here and quite a bit out of my element," Amy ventured with a wry smile. "I came to visit my father because him and my mom are divorced and he finally decided to get in touch with me- well, beyond the generic birthday cards and Christmas cards- and he invited me over. And... so here I am. I'm just not used to all of this."

Raye nodded, and the understanding in her face was so deep that it made Amy wonder. But she didn't share any stories of her own. "The party won't last all that much longer. And next time anyone who's named after two brands of cigarettes introduces himself, slap him and run the other way before he can start to hit on you."

"He wasn't exactly hitting on me, I don't think," Amy wrinkled her nose. "Or at least, I hope he wasn't." Zach's 'bet' with her that she had so quickly refused resurfaced in her mind and she found herself flushing. "I thought he was trying to let me know just how much of a country bumpkin I was in this crowd of up-and-coming city folk."

"He was hitting on you too, but because he's a smug little hipster with too much money to burn, the attempt was an epic fail," Raye remarked before grinning. "I'm sure you could do better, even here."

"I... well, I think I'll pass." Almost involuntarily she opened her beaded little evening bag and pulled out her cell phone. There were several new text-messages from Zach, but she didn't check them out of courtesy.

Raye noticed the movement though, and the smile that flitted briefly over Amy's face. "Already taken, hmm?"

"I... you could say that." Amy relaxed somewhat and leaned against the sink a little. "Well... the guy and I have never exactly discussed the parameters of our relationship, but it's not completely platonic, and..." The phone in her hand vibrated again with a new text message, and this time she did open it up to check. A laugh escaped as she saw a photograph of Zach, clearly taken by himself, with a caption of "NO MORE PRPLE EYEBROWS HELL YEAH!" He was giving her the thumbs-up sign and wearing a t-shirt that bore the chemical symbol of the caffeine molecule.

"Do share the joke. Particularly if it's dirty," Raye ordered genially, and Amy handed her the phone. The other girl made a hmming noise before handing the phone back to Amy with a grin. "Well, he certainly beats Smokes Smokes Trois in the cuteness stakes. Very pretty eyes, and nice cheekbones too. But what's up with his hair? It's sticking up in all directions."

Amy remembered the last time she'd seen him, the way he'd run his fingers through his hair in agitation at the information that she'd be gone for a week, and a wistful, nostalgic look crossed her face. Watching her, Raye chuckled. "So, ready to face the masses again, do you think?" she asked kindly.

"I think so," Amy put the phone away and smiled genuinely at Raye. "Thank you. Really."

"Not a problem," Raye answered evenly and smoothed out the satiny surface of her dress. "Welcome to New York, by the way. Hope you don't think all of us who live here are assholes."

"Not any more," Amy found herself replying, and with a laugh, walking in tandem, the two walked back into the gallery.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: And at long last, Amy returns home! The joyous reunion happens in this chapter. Thanks again to all who have been reading and reviewing, and I hope that no one's bored yet!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

By the time the gallery showing was over, Amy was fast friends with Raye. The latter, who turned out to be the daughter of New York Senator B. Louis Harcourt, exchanged contact information with her by the end of the night, and it was rather nice to have someone else to talk to. They met for lunch twice before Amy had to go back home to Georgia, and her new friend's refreshing, down-to-earth sensibilities and candour enabled Amy to endure the rest of the trip, including being coerced into sitting for a portrait for Clemence.

The resulting artwork looked not unlike a knockoff of the paintings made by Picasso during his blue period and was completely unrecognizable as Amy except for two large, exaggeratedly long-lashed blue eyes peering out like the portholes of a ship. Clemence had not finished the picture by the time Amy was due to return home, but had declared triumphantly that she'd managed to capture the "spirit" of it. Amy was privately happy that she would not be trotted through another art gallery showing and be discussed and referred to as "the muse" by any more uppity strangers.

The woman's relationship with her father was open-ended and fashionably anti-matrimonial, as Clemence reassured her one day that she did not have to worry about gaining a stepmother, for in these liberated days and times such institutions as marriage were of secondary importance, and they both wished to focus more on their art. This declaration, on top of her experiences during the trip, made her understand that her father was simply not cut out for the role which life had thrust upon him. Marriage and family did not suit him, and he left a situation which he deemed stifling and intolerable to pursue his interests and freedom. Nothing that she was or could do would change it, but to let it continue to bother her made little sense, either.

All in all, it was with quite a bit of excitement and anticipation that she boarded the plane that would take her back home, and when she bid her father farewell at the airport, it felt like closure. After a few hours and the pilot's voice on the intercom informing them that they were about to land, please put seats back in the upright position and buckle up seatbelts, she found herself smiling.

* * *

Two blonde teenagers, one female and cheerful, the other male and somewhat spastic, walked together through the airport deep in conversation. Mina had eagerly supported Zach's idea to surprise Amy at the airport on her return, and was talking a mile a minute, giving him directions and bewailing the fact that his hair was sticking up in all directions.

"So, the plane touches down in about half an hour, and there is a gift shop right there, and you really should get her flowers! And WHY is your hair so messy? You look like a Treasure Troll. With a perm."

"Shut up, M-E-A-N-A," Zach grimaced, raking his fingers through the sandy-blond curls and failing utterly in smoothing them down. "I'll get her some flowers, sure."

She beamed, and chattered on about how sweet a gesture it was and how cute she thought him and Amy were together, and in his distraction and haste, he only noticed that the flowers he found were in various shades of blue and white, which suited Amy well. He bought the bouquet as Mina thumbed through a magazine and afterwards, they followed the signs in the airport to the terminal where Amy's plane was supposed to land.

Zach saw Dr. Elizabeth Mizuno the same moment that she saw him, and there was no way to avoid a conversation. Shuffling his feet in embarrassment, he walked forward, still lamely holding the flowers since the traitorous Mina had flitted off towards the direction of the bathrooms and left him to his fate.

"Hello, Zach," Elizabeth Mizuno greeted him with a kindly smile, and for the first time, Zach noticed how much Amy took after her mother. Dr. Mizuno had the same pale skin and Prussian blue eyes, the same fine-boned hands. The same slow smile curved across her lips as she held out a hand for Zach to shake. "It's good to see you again. You're here to see Amy, hmm?"

"Uhhh, yeah. I came with a friend. Mina Atherton. We both know Amy from school. And... yeah." The attempt to play casual was belied by the bouquet he still held, and Elizabeth Mizuno's smile grew.

"You know, you don't have to be so nervous around me," she remarked matter-of-factly. "I know that you like Amy. It doesn't bother me at all that you do. She's fond of you as well."

He coughed somewhat bashfully, but retained enough of his intrinsic charm to pull a white daisy out of the bouquet and hand it to her. "Well, thanks, I guess. I... uh, well, I'm glad you think so. And that it doesn't bother you. And... well, I kind of wanted to see her, because I think she was worried about the trip, and I know for a while she wasn't enjoying herself, and I'm hoping that she's okay and she feels better. And I hope she's not sad when she gets here. Because that makes me sad. She's usually so together. It's actually kind of intimidating if you think about it for a long time."

This ramble was neither sophisticated nor polished, but Amy's mother didn't seem to mind, and gave his hand a squeeze with her warm, capable one. "She'll be happy to see you, I'm sure."

"Well, maybe. I hope so, because it would kind of suck if she couldn't stand the sight of me or something. But I mean, I hope she's not upset because of the visit with her dad. I offered that she could have mine if she wanted or if hers pissed her off or something," Zach mumbled, reflexively running his fingers through his disordered hair again. "He might talk her ear off, of course. And... well, I just hope she's okay."

Amy's mom smiled, and there was a soft light of approval and affection in her eyes when she gazed at Zach. At that moment, though, before she could say anything in response, passengers started disembarking from the plane. And there, wearing dark jeans and ballet flats and following out a family of four, was Amy. Amy, whose skin looked luminescent against the dark sleeveless t-shirt she wore, who didn't look worse for the wear. Amy, whose long eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked. Amy, whose eyes widened and lips curved up when she saw him standing next to her mother, and ran forward.

"Zach!" Her voice was light and almost giddy as she launched herself in his arms, and the radiance of her smile hit him like a fist to the heart. "Oh, I've missed you! I've really, really missed you!" A giggle escaped as his arms closed around her and he was submerged in the feeling of her, the tickle of her breath against his neck as she clung to him, the softness and scent of her hair against his cheek. He held onto her so tightly that he could feel her heart beating against his own, and his own heart stumbled.

It was only after a few eternities that the rest of the world came back into view, and he realized that there was a good chance he was crushing her, and he pulled back a step. It was also then that he realized that the flowers he bought came with a small card sticking out at a jaunty angle, which read "Congratulations, it's a boy!" and had a picture of a stork with a blanket-wrapped bundle dangling from its beak.

He bit off a swear word and raked his fingers through his hair again, but there was nothing to do but hand her the bouquet, which was looking also a bit worse for wear from the way it was held, a few fallen petals now clinging to the back of Amy's shirt. She, of course, noticed the card and laughed softly.

"I'm sorry, I bought them because they're blue and you like blue, and..." His ramble was cut off by a delicate fingertip, which she held against his lips even as she reached up to smooth down his hair.

"Thanks," she said quietly, moving her hand away from his mouth to take the flowers. The other hand remained tangled in his hair though, and for the first time somewhere public, in front of her mother and everyone in the terminal at the airport and Mina, whom he vaguely noticed in the corner grinning and snapping photographs at a mad pace on her cell phone, she pressed her lips to his. He forgot all about his nervousness, the incongruous card with the flowers, the fact that her mother was watching them with an indulgent and nostalgic smile, and kissed her back. There was nothing and no one else in the world. She was all right, she was back with him, elation flowing through them like intoxication, and he loved her.

"Oh." She was the first to speak when they pulled apart, and he noticed the redness of her cheeks and the contrite expression on her face. "Hi, Mom. Mina. That was rather rude of me, wasn't it? I'm sorry."

Neither her mother nor Mina seemed to mind.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: At long last, Laws of Attraction intersects with Magnolias In Bloom, timeline-wise! This is also about the three-quarter mark of this fic. Thanks to all who have been following it, particularly those who've given me feedback. I hope the story has lived up to expectations!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

"So apparently, Miss Emmaline's great-nephew from big bad NYC is here to help her out for the summer," Zach grumbled as he emerged from the locker room of the pool dressed in a pair of swim trunks, flip-flops on his feet and a bottle of SPF 30 sunblock in one hand. She had started her shift two hours before him, and miraculously, still looked cool and serene as she greeted him. Not for the first time that week did he envy the red whistle that hung around her neck and nestled perfectly in between her breasts.

"Oh, that's rather nice of him," Amy murmured, trying to hide a smile at his disgruntled expression. "What's his name?"

"I don't know, I haven't been over to Miss Emmaline's since the guy arrived," Zach answered, taking comfort in the most basic of ways and skimming his eyes from her bare toes, up slim ankles and perfect, smooth legs that seemed to go all the way up to her ears, and back down. "I guess it's okay for him to see how she's doing and all. But it's anyone's guess whether he can actually do any good. Mina's seen him, since her house is right across the street from Miss Emmaline's and her window faces their yard. She says he's CUTE."

Amy took the bottle of sunscreen from him and poured a dollop of it in the palm of one hand, biting down a laugh at the expression of almost-brotherly disgust on his face. "All right, Zach. Turn around so I can get your back for you."

He obediently turned and shivered as smooth hands and cold lotion came in contact with his skin. Tense muscles relaxed at her touch, and when she was done, grabbed one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, honey."

"I'm not honey," she said in reply, but it was affectionate, and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling in a way that lessened his black mood. "You seem very worried about Mina's very innocuous remark that her new neighbour is cute. I doubt that anything bad will come of Miss Emmaline's nephew visiting for a summer."

"Yeah, well, Mina didn't have to think he was cute or anything," Zach grimaced even as he made his way towards one of the lifeguard chairs. "It's not like he's around to stay. Big Bad NYC probably thinks that he's got a lot of better things to do than hang around here anyway. And as he's bound to get bored, I'd rather not he alleviate his boredom by availing himself of any of my friends." Almost on a reflex, one hand raked through his hair.

"You're very worried about something quite hypothetical," Amy declared, reaching up and smoothing his hair back down. "Let's not get carried away with it until there's a reason for you to, hmm? Now, don't forget to reapply that sunscreen in two hours."

"Honey, that stuff's waterproof. I'll be fine for the rest of the day."

"No sunscreen is actually COMPLETELY waterproof, and if you'll read the print on the label you would know that swimming and extensive sun exposure lessens the effectiveness of the protection," Amy said severely. "Also, SPF stands for sun protection factor, and an SPF of 30 merely means that your skin is damaged at a rate 30 times slower from ultraviolet rays than it would be with no sunblock at all, not that there is infinite protection. So unless you wish to be sunburned or worse, it would behoove you to be more careful."

"Did you just use the word 'behoove'?" Zach demanded, grinning from ear to ear. She did not dignify this question with a response, however, and made her way to her own lifeguard chair without a backward glance. He sighed gustily and watched her ascend, those flawless legs flexing and bending as she climbed up to her seat. "Be still my heart."

He kept an eye on the kids splashing around the pool and snacked on trail mix and an extra-large frozen coke. Across the pool, her own skin remaining stubbornly pale despite the summer sun, Amy meticulously carried out her job duties with the same conscientiousness that she used to tackle her schoolwork. A pair of rowdy boys perhaps thirteen or so years of age were warned very sternly against running around the pool, and she kept an eagle eye on a pair of youngsters around kindergarten age splashing around the shallow end whose mother was sprawled in a deck chair, fast asleep. It had been a week since school had let out, and he still saw her almost every day.

Ever since she'd returned from New York City and jumped into his arms at the airport, the sadness in her eyes not gone but diminished, he'd been wrestling with just how to ease her into the fact that he didn't just feel basic attraction for her. It wasn't a situation that he had any experience in, and goodness knew that the last thing that she needed, after finally sending Gregor Schoenherr packing back to Germany with goodness knows how many kind words and perhaps even a hug or two, was to be pressured in any sort of way.

He still had time to figure it out, though. Once Amy had gotten used to this whole boyfriend-girlfriend type of thing, she was surprisingly affectionate and considerate. She bought him, among other things in New York, a Pez dispenser in the shape of the Statue of Liberty, having remembered that he collected them. She took his AP Biology exam result as seriously as she took her own, and if the study sessions invariably ended with the two of them cuddling after a few hours of quizzing each other on vocabulary, he couldn't say that he minded a single bit. These days, she fussed over whether he remembered to apply sunscreen and reminded him to keep himself hydrated on hot days, and it was in these little things that he found it in himself to hope.

"Heeyyy," A drawling female voice broke through his musings, and he peered down to see a young girl perhaps fourteen or fifteen smiling up at him over the rims of her sunglasses. "Y'all have a minute to help me?"

"Sure," Zach put on his genial public servant face. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I thought that a lifeguard would be the best person to talk to," the girl flirtatiously threw her hair back and rested one hand on her hip almost model-style. "I heard that we're going to learn all about first aid and stuff in health class in high school, and I hear that you guys have to train to give mouth-to-mouth and so on... what's all that like?"

"Health class in high school?" Zach noticed Amy's eyes on the two of them and refrained from smiling at the young girl as he might have done under another circumstance. "A breeze. As for first aid? It's pretty useful, I suppose. I haven't had to give mouth-to-mouth to anyone yet, and I hope I won't have to."

"Oh, why is that?" Saucer-like brown eyes looked up at him almost worshipfully. "I mean, it seems so impressive to know all that."

"Oh, because if I had to give mouth-to-mouth that means that someone's unconscious and not breathing and all that, and I'm hoping that we won't run into that sort of situation," Zach said, only a slight note of dryness detectable in his voice. "I don't think you'll have to worry about learning first aid in health class in high school."

"If I did need help, though, do you think you could help me?" The girl was clearly not ready to give up, and poked out her bottom lip. "I've noticed you here since school let out. You must be very brave."

"I don't know if I'm qualified to TEACH anyone the health class's curriculum, easy though it was," Zach remarked. Across the pool, eyes icy cool blue and expressionless, Amy pinned the girl with her gaze.

"Oh," the girl seemed disappointed. "Well, if you do ever think you can teach me anything, anything at all, I'd be soo happy to learn."

"I'll keep that in mind," Zach chuckled. "You take care now."

The girl ambled off and Zach shot Amy a look of wide-eyed innocence. She raised an eyebrow in response before pointedly looking away. Undeterred, he pulled out his cell phone from the bag of personal effects hooked onto the arm of his chair and sent her a text message and watched Amy's face as her own cell phone vibrated in her bag.

Those big blue eyes changed from suspicious to surprised to slightly affronted to ruefully amused in the space of several seconds as she received a message that said "hey i had 2 put up with ur pal greg 4 a whole yr! & besides, u got much better legs than she did 3". Even across the width of the pool, he could make out her blush, and blew her a kiss. She smiled and went back to supervising the kids in the pool.

Two hours later she reapplied sunblock to his back and listened patiently to his increasingly convoluted and devious plans to interrogate Mina about Miss Emmaline's Big Bad NYC visitor without telling him he was being unreasonable, even though he was sure that she was thinking it. He repaid the favour of it by doing her back for her as well, and after taking his time to smooth his fingers over all the skin he could touch, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She trembled just a little at the contact, and he smiled against her skin.

"You're the best, you know that?"

"Nothing of the sort, but thank you." She rested her hands on his over her stomach for a few moments before pulling away. "Hey, after we're done here, want to go get something to eat? My treat."

It was the first time that she'd asked, even though they've hung out together a few times in the past. He smiled, nodded, and stole a kiss that had his little groupie from earlier sighing in envy before returning to his chair.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Short-ish chapter, apologies, but at least it's here, right? It's been a very hectic week. Next chapter will be longer, I promise.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"All right, this is... not very nice."

The women's locker room stunk to high heaven. There was a pile of vomit recognizeable as regurgitated pizza on the floor by one of the locker rooms, and smears of artificial colouring from popsicles streaking stickily over the metallic surface of the lockers adjacent. Amy sighed, shook her head, and thought words too uncharitable to be uttered aloud about mothers who stuffed their four-year-olds full of junk food before making them go swimming.

Not all of lifeguarding was supervising swim classes and watching Zach's hair bleach a lighter blond in the sunlight as his skin tanned golden brown. There was also keeping one's patience with people who should definitely know better than their behaviour exhibited, and cleaning some truly spectacular messes. She really didn't understand why the women's locker room always had to be so jaw-droppingly filthy.

"Ewwww."

Amy turned her head at the sound of Zach's voice at the entrance of the locker room. "I thought you were off today?" she asked, picking up a pair of rubber gloves and a bottle of Clorox. He wore the regulation polo shirt over his swim trunks and there were a few freckles on his nose now from the one time that he forgot to put sunblock on his face.

"I was, but there's a baseball game later and I figured I might as well come over here and see what you were up to. I told Drew he could go home early and I'd close out for him and he can work my Sunday instead." Whereas someone else might have simply watched her clean up the nauseating mess and she wouldn't have thought any less of them for it, he picked up another pair of rubber gloves and a long-handled scrub brush without a thought. "It should be a good baseball game. Mina's team against Nick Lennox's- he plays right field at Everett High and he's got his little group doing pretty well."

Amy knew, though he didn't say so, that there was another reason for him to want to watch the game. The New York City nephew of Mina's neighbour had watched a few of the Little League team's practices, and struck up an acquaintance with Mina and her surrogate siblings. Thus, there was a more than likely chance that Kevin Ellis would be present at this one, and with the amount of parents and family and friends expected to be in attendance, it would afford Zach a good opportunity to observe how the guy acted around Mina without being too obvious about it. Amy had seen Kevin a few times before while walking through the park, though they had never officially met. Miss Emmaline's nephew was a tall, broad-shouldered boy around their age, or perhaps a year or two older, with straight, pale blond hair and solemn gray eyes. She could see why Mina thought he was cute, even though she was surprised that her sweet-natured, outgoing friend might be attracted to someone who seemed so serious and unapproachable.

Then again, here she was, with an overly flirtatious blond who enjoyed turning her world topsy-turvy, drove a car all but covered in ridiculous bumper stickers, and did things by impulse rather than meticulous planning. Opposites attract, she thought. But that didn't always work out for the good. There was always the prime example of her parents.

"You're getting those overanalysing-something frown lines on your face again," Zach remarked, setting down his scrub brush and peering at her. "What's on your mind, honey?"

"I'm not honey, and..." Normally, she would have kept silent about things that bothered her, but honesty was important in any relationship worth keeping, and she had come to value Zach and his presence in her life more than he could know. "Are you happy right now?"

His expression went from concerned to slightly baffled. "Well, I could think of about fifty-seven things I'd rather be doing with you than cleaning up puke in a locker room."

"That's not what I meant." She had to laugh at the way he said it. "I mean in general." With me. That last bit she didn't say aloud, though. Slightly embarrassed at her own uncharacteristic display of uncertainty, she bent her head over the mess on the floor and mopped it up.

He seemed to understand even without her saying, and cocked his head to the side as though deep in thought. "Well, I have my health, my youth, my family, my friends, a functional, if not hard-on-inducing, car, no bald spots or terminal illnesses, and the most adorable, if occasionally overanalytical, girlfriend on the face of this planet. With the best legs, too. So yeah, I'm happy." He wiped up the popsicle stains from the lockers before disposing of his rubber gloves and washing his hands. "Hey, you going to be okay?"

"I am not adorable, I do not overanalyse, and I'm sure there are many other girls with better legs than me," Amy told him slowly before smiling. "But yes, I'm okay. Thanks."

"Good. And you're welcome. You coming to the game with me?"

"I suppose I will," she replied, throwing rags and gloves in the trash before smiling up at him. "Just let me finish up and get changed."

"You could come in this. I wouldn't mind."

A red whistle was flung through the air. It bounced off his shoulder before he laughed and dashed out of the locker room.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: As promised, a longer chapter here. If you squint you might just see another SMverse character!

Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing.

* * *

"Hey, Zach? Amy? Think one of you might want to come here and take a look at this."

The speaker was Mrs. Lennox, who worked at the library where Amy volunteered during the school year and who often brought her younger kids to the pool for a swim. The matronly brunette, whose rosy cheeks were usually creased with dimples from smiling, didn't wear a smile now.

Amy glanced at Zach in an unspoken request to keep watch on the pool's occupants while following Mrs. Lennox towards the direction of the locker rooms.

"I don't know who did this, but..." Mrs. Lennox thinned her lips and opened the door, and Amy's jaw dropped.

In lurid red marker, scribbled crudely and maliciously over lockers, bathroom stalls and walls like the handiwork of a mean-spirited child, were sexualized caricature depictions of a girl recognizeable as Mina Atherton, and along with the grotesque exaggeration of Mina's breasts and poses clearly meant to be sex acts, there were the usual "For a good time call..." messages.

"I have no idea when this happened," Amy murmured, finally finding her voice after several moments of blank, appalled shock. "I've been out there all day. I can't believe no one's thought to inform me til now."

"It probably hasn't been up for very long," Mrs. Lennox said softly. "I didn't see anyone else in the locker room when I came in here. I just sent Nick to see if they hit the men's as well. Maybe you should go ahead and get management."

Amy nodded dully, and walked back out of the women's locker room to come face to face with a tall, tanned boy with russet brown hair and forthright dark eyes. Nick Lennox, who coached a Little League team across town and knew Mina as well, shook his head. "You're not going to want to go into the men's locker room, Amy," he remarked quietly. "My mom said it's pretty bad in the women's, but what's in there has to be worse. Maybe you guys should call the cops."

Amy brushed past him and walked straight to Zach's chair, her heart aching for Mina. He leaned down, his green eyes full of concern, and asked her what was the matter.

"You're going to be mad," she told him slowly. "Really mad."

"Probably, if you're this upset," he replied, resting a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"

"It's Mina... or someone who's got it out for Mina. They graffitied the locker rooms all over and put her phone number on the walls like she's a hooker."

The hand on her shoulder pushed down, clenched, and she reached up and rested her own hand over it. "You go get park management, I'll go kick everyone out and start on cleaning it up." Hurting for him and his long friendship with Mina, Amy wanted to delay him seeing the worst of it as long as possible.

Some of that must have shown on her face, because his hands relaxed somewhat as he hopped down from the chair. Before loping off in the direction of the park's general office, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Determinedly, Amy knocked on the doors of both locker rooms, called in her most no-nonsense voice for everyone inside to get out, and hung up out-of-order signs before returning to her post.

* * *

If there was any way to turn back time and change everything so that Mina didn't have to see the spectacle in the locker rooms, Zach would have done it. But even if they had been able to clean up the mess before Mina was due there that evening, they couldn't undo the stares and chuckles and comments from other people at the park. As it was, almost by unspoken agreement, him and Amy met Mina at the door before she could go in.

Kevin Ellis was there with her, and from the little things- the way he had his hand on her back, the way he shortened his stride to match hers- it was immediately obvious that the relationship between Miss Emmaline's New York visitor and his best friend was no longer quite platonic. Zach filed that bit of information away in his mind and focused on the situation at hand, and explained as gently as possible what had happened.

Mina was stunned, but Kevin took a step forward, murder in his eyes, and while he was not pleased that he was facing down the wrath of a stranger who had a few inches and several pounds on him, Zach felt slightly reassured for Mina that the other boy at least took her seriously. Despite her shock, Mina insisted on proceeding with Little League practice that evening and facing the crowd, and while his heart ached for what she would inevitably have to deal with that night, he'd expected no less from her to face up to it.

After Mina left for her practice, her face milk-pale and with Kevin's arm wrapped supportively around her shoulders, Zach sighed and went back to the women's locker room, where Amy was elbow-deep in cleaning chemicals and determinedly scrubbing at walls. "Hey," he said softly as he walked over to her.

"I think we need to call the cops, even though Mina doesn't want to make an even bigger deal out of it," Amy remarked, her eyes steely and her hands unceasing. "At least just so this place won't continue to be vandalised. Why would anyone do this to Mina, though?"

"I don't know," Zach said heavily, picking up a bottle of graffiti remover and pouring it on a rag. "Big Bad NYC is mad as hell."

"He really cares about her," Amy mused, glancing over at him. "It's fairly clear that they're seeing each other. Are you okay with that?"

Zach shrugged and wiped at the wall, his face pensive. "As okay as I should be, I guess. Can't really make her do anything, anyway. I just hope she's going to be okay... with this situation. And... as to the other, he's going back to NYC after the summer. Hope that all goes okay, too."

She wore rubber gloves on her hands and was holding a sodden, red-stained rag, so she simply leaned over and pressed her cheek to his shoulder in a gesture of support, and he smiled at that. "I guess I should go call the cops, get this situation resolved."

"Yeah, you do that. Later, I think you should also have a talk with Kevin. He doesn't seem like he's evil or anything."

Zach made a slight face, but nodded before going off to make the phone call.

* * *

Kevin didn't turn out to be evil, merely furious and ready to commit homicide on whoever committed the act. Zach, when he'd gone into the locker room with the cop from the local precinct, had noticed cigarette butts jammed in one of the toilets, but that wasn't enough to conclude for certain the identity of the culprit. Seeing Kevin's eyes harden and sharpen like steel, however, was some sort of confirmation. He privately wondered when and how Kevin had run into Dan Burright, but contented himself in giving the other boy a warning that it would make Mina feel worse if he'd gotten into a fight over it.

It was full dark by the time that he and Amy finished giving their statements to the police and cleaning up the mess, a few hours after their shifts were supposed to be done, and silently, they walked towards his car in the parking lot. Amy linked her hand with his as he pulled the car into drive and squeezed.

"Fucking Dan Burright," Zach's other hand clenched around the steering wheel. "I knew it was him as soon as I saw the box of Marlboro Reds in the men's room."

"You let the police know your suspicions, and that individual's background with Mina," Amy reminded him. "I'm sure they'll check out that angle."

"It's not fucking okay, and there's no point in pretending that it is. That piece of methhead scum! First he attacks YOU, and now this? I told Ellis not to go kick his ass, but I'm having a bit of trouble trying to heed my own damn advice here," Zach spat. "This is the second time he's attacked someone I love. I hope he dies."

Amy's hand slackened in his and had he not been watching the road, he would have noticed her eyes widen. It was a few moments before she spoke, though. "No one deserves to die," she said cautiously.

"He does," Zach snarled between clenched teeth even as he pulled into her driveway. He seemed to have no awareness of the word he'd dropped, but took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "I'll call Mina later, see if she's okay. I don't mean to get all mad or anything and vent at you, honey."

"I don't mind," Amy said softly, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching over. Her eyes were shiny with tears, but before he could ask her about it, she leaned forward and kissed him hard. He kissed her back, fingers stroking through her hair, and wondered at her sudden emotionality.

She pulled away only when she had to breathe, and clambered out of the car. "Take care of yourself, okay? I'll see you tomorrow at work." Not sparing him another glance, she dashed for the door, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes.

Zach watched, mystified, as she disappeared inside before slowly driving away.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Sorry about not updating for a while! Life suddenly got hectic for a few weeks. These things happen, and tend to be out of my control, but... well, at least the new chapter is up now!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Mina turned out to be all right after all, after the whole debacle with the locker room graffiti. Her phone was turned off for the day, ditto the land line at her house, but after that things gradually went back to normal. The experience seemed to bring her and Kevin closer, however, and while Zach didn't particularly want to think about that, he made himself accept that she was happy with Big Bad NYC, and the latter seemed to care about her.

On the 4th of July, though there were no swim classes at the pool, it was still kept open for all the town's residents who were out in the park that day. Amy and Matt, another of the lifeguards, were assigned to work that day, and Zach maneuvered to switch his schedule around so that he worked instead of Matt. They lingered in the park for a while after the pool was closed, joining Lita Green's family's barbecue, and did full justice to the elaborate picnic spread that the girl had prepared.

Afterwards, they sat together on the grass and watched the fireworks, and Zach wondered a bit at why it was that ever since the graffiti debacle, Amy seemed to look at him a bit differently, why her eyes seemed to shine brighter and she seemed nervous and yet exultant at once. After the fireworks display, they went back to the locker rooms to pick their things up before going home. At the door, he pressed his chin on her shoulder.

"What are the thoughts going through your cute little head these days?"

"Hmm?" She turned slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You seem to be thinking about something that has nothing to do with those roast beef sandwiches we just had, or for that matter the pretty lights and loud noises in the sky," he remarked. "Everything all right?"

"Oh, yes." She glanced at him, then glanced away, and picked up one of his hands. "I've been wondering about whether something I heard was the truth or not."

"Oh? Do tell." He linked his fingers with hers. "If it's whether Mina and Kevin are... er... you know, I believe so. But I don't want to think about it."

She laughed and even in the darkness, he could see her blushing. "No, no. Not that. That's none of my business. It's about us."

That didn't sound so good, and try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the alarm out of his eyes. "What about us?"

She paused for a few torturous seconds before she spoke. "You were cussing out Dan Burright after the whole incident in the locker rooms."

"Not an action I regret by any means, and if I could have a do-over, I'd kick his ass before it even got to that point, or more accurately, before he got up in your face on Valentine's Day," Zach said with conviction. "But you know that."

She took a deep breath and turned fully so that those wide blue eyes were locked with his. "You said something about him deserving to die because that was twice he hurt someone you loved."

Confusion turned to comprehension in the space of less than a minute, and suddenly everything made sense. He glanced down at her hand, still clasped in his, and then up at her face. "I wasn't lying. You don't have to do anything about it, of course."

"So you mean it?" Her voice was soft, not quite as calm as it usually was.

He nodded. She deserved the truth after all, and hoped that she wouldn't break his heart over it.

A sniffle broke through his thoughts, and that caught his attention. She was smiling and crying at the same time, but he barely had a moment to be dismayed before she jumped into his arms, laughing through her tears. "It would be like you to tell me such a thing without thinking about it, while cussing someone else out," her voice was muffled against his neck.

"So... you're okay with it?" he asked cautiously even as his arms locked around her waist.

"I love you too. And I thought about it before saying it. Of course I'm okay."

She didn't give him a chance to respond and pulled his head down for a kiss, and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her into the darkness of the locker room and had her up against a wall of lockers, drinking from her lips and holding her like he'd never let her go. She moaned, and he'd never heard anything so sexy in his life.

His fingers had her shirt halfway up before he became aware of what he was doing, and then he forced himself to pull away, blinking a few times to clear the haze. She was breathing deeply and her lips were swollen and her eyes glittered with some confusion.

"I'm not going to do things this way," he managed to say after a few moments. "Not here, not with you, like this. You deserve better."

Time slowed to a crawl and he forced himself to settle, his heartbeat to even out, and then he watched as she nodded.

"You're right." She had that look on her face that indicated any number of thoughts racing through her brain, and he couldn't do anything but hope for the best. "Take me home. It's late."

* * *

It was unusual for Zach to be up early in the morning during summer vacation on a day that he didn't have to work, but he had spent the last two sleepless nights tossing and turning in bed thinking about the conversation that he had with Amy on Fourth of July. It would be best to talk to someone about things before he became a chronic insomniac.

He entered the kitchen to find his mother doing the newspaper crossword as she finished her cup of coffee, already dressed to go to the school, and smiled at her. For as long as he could remember, she'd always done so in the mornings, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration, a spot of calm in the often-chaotic household. Those eyes were steely whenever he was up to no good, but he also remembered the day when he finally surpassed her in height about two years back, and her eyes had been damp with sentimental tears.

"Susannah's at the Harmons'. Paula is taking her, Mina and Louise to the mall later," his mother remarked. "You might actually have the house to yourself today... at least until I get back from the summer school crowd."

Zach walked over and kissed the top of his mother's head. Her hair was soft and smelled like Pantene Pro-V. "Cool."

The tone of his voice alerted her to the fact that there was something on his mind, and she looked up, blue eyes serene and full of warmth. "You want to talk about something?"

"I know the story," Zach murmured. "You meeting dad in a pub in County Galway where he was playing fiddle for his drinks, and he wouldn't leave you alone."

Humour and remembrance entered her face and she chuckled. "No, he certainly didn't. I'm thankful for it every day."

"How did you deal with it when you realized that, er, you didn't mind him annoying the hell out of you?"

Kathleen O'Connor got out of her chair and rinsed out her empty coffee mug at the sink. Turning around, she surveyed her son, took in his appearance and expression. "This is about Amy, right?"

Zach raked a hand through his hair and tossed an apple from the fruit basket on the table up into the air again and again. "I haven't even been dating her that long, not really. I mean, okay, it's been about five months since I told her I liked her and stuff, and then we didn't officially date until she was back from New York and seriously, we're like HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS. We're supposed to be with someone new every month or so, it's like a rule, but..." He brought the apple to his lips and took a bite, and had trouble swallowing it past the lump in his throat. "But it's not like that with Amy. And... I know what I feel, and I even told her. Even though it was kind of blurted out and I'd prefer a do-over so I'm not such a dumbass about it. And... she says she feels the same. It just kind of makes me nervous."

"You love her," As always, Kathleen was able to see through all the babble to the core of the matter, and much like when he has grown taller than her, sentimental tears filled her eyes for a moment, to be blinked away. She cupped his cheek with her hand, like she'd always done when he was a little boy and scared about something or another. "That's bound to make someone nervous."

"You... uh, you're okay with that? And you believe me?" This surprised Zach a little bit. He was usually of the opinion that the older generation deemed his age group incapable of deeper thoughts and emotions.

"Silly. You have your father's eyes. Both of you can lie with the best of them with your tongues, but your eyes betray you. She's a lovely girl, your Amy. I knew there was something different about her when you invited her over the first time."

"I'm afraid of mucking things up," Zach confessed. "It was always easy to deal with girls before. But this isn't the same. She says she loves me too. I just..."

"Go with your instinct," His mother told him. "It's scary, yes, and you're bound to make a few mistakes along the way, and so is she. But if you really love someone, it will be worth it."

"So, uh, you're saying just go with it and see how it turns out?"

She nodded, and smiled. "Of course, don't do anything reckless or foolish. It's not good to take actions where you wouldn't be able to accept the consequences. But I have faith in you, and in her." She glanced at her watch. "I'd best get going, though. Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah, thanks." The rest of the apple went down easier, and he stood up, bending down to kiss her cheek. "Love you, mom."

"Love you too. Don't spend your whole day playing video games and doing nothing else." With this last admonishment, she slipped into her sensible flat-heeled pumps and left the house.

Zach was in the middle of a heist on Grand Theft Auto when the doorbell rang. Pausing the game, he went to open the door, and was somewhat surprised to see Amy standing there. "Hey," he greeted her. "What's up?"

"Michelle was kind enough to drop me off," she told him, her calm voice belying the hint of nerves in her eyes as he opened the door wider to let her in. "I was thinking."

"Yeah?"

"I appreciate that you held back... the other day. In the locker room," she said slowly. "It wasn't the right place."

"Er, yeah." He raked his fingers through his hair in embarrassment. "A locker room. Bad. I mean... not that I don't want to... with you. God, I just... okay, I'm going to shut up now."

That got a short, soft laugh out of her before she resumed her serious expression. Determination and all the signs of a made-up mind written over her features, she deliberately shut the door and locked it, then stepped forward until they were almost toe to toe. She was wearing a crisp white shirt and denim shorts that showed off lithe, flawless legs, and she had one hand in her pocket. He watched as she took a deep, steadying breath, close enough to feel the warmth of her body against his.

"Is this a better place?" she asked quietly.

He didn't have time to respond before she was kissing him, emotion pouring through it like water through a broken dam, and her hands tugged the tails of his shirt out of his jeans.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Hey guys guess what? To make up for not updating in an age, here's the next chapter up very quickly! And it's basically all fanservice! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Zach considered himself honest for the most part, at least to himself, and he would have been the first to admit that he thought about this particular scenario a sickening amount of times, in an almost infinite number of variations.

Still, it didn't go quite as he'd expected.

He couldn't be faulted for this, not really, because none of the variations of the scenario involved Amy jumping his bones on the floor of the front foyer of his house, a few feet away from the welcome mat, adjacent to the broom closet.

He didn't really have time to process this information, though, because his mind and heart and world was filled with her, as she kissed him with slow deliberation, her skin luminous in the sunlight streaming through the lace curtains on the windows. She was pliant and soft as she lay over his chest, her fingers lost in his hair, and his own hands shook as they unbuttoned her shorts.

"Are... are you sure?" he managed to croak out between kisses, reasonably certain that he'd die if she said no, but willing to chance it because it was still more important that she was okay.

She silently reached into the pocket of her discarded shorts, drew out a package of condoms with the price tag still on them, and nodded. He managed a short laugh and tugged her down for another kiss.

* * *

It was a while later when he finally found the energy to move. She remained sprawled on his chest, her skin cooling and stubbornly pale despite the hours in the sun. Her shorts lay next to his shirt on the welcome mat and he felt her lips curve into a smile against his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked. She hadn't needed to tell him that she'd not done it before. "I didn't hurt you or anything, right?"

"Yeah," she answered softly. "I'm okay." She lifted her head and gazed down at him with heavy-lidded blue eyes. "I knew what I wanted, and went after it."

He laughed weakly at that and stroked a hand down her smooth, bare back. "I'd be lying if I said that the same thought has never crossed my mind."

"You didn't act on it, though," she murmured, cupping his face with her hands.

"You said you preferred to take it slow," he reminded her. He was patently unable to control the grin spreading across his face. "I respect that."

"Mmm, thanks," she bent down and kissed him softly, and it seemed impossible that he could feel desire stirring again from such a gentle touch. "I'm not sorry, by the way. But you must be uncomfortable there on the hard floor. We could go somewhere else."

He took just enough time to pick up their scattered clothing before handing the pile to her, then picked her up and carried her, shrieking with laughter, up the stairs.

* * *

The next time was in his bed, where she'd sat the first time she visited his house, and afterwards, he cuddled with her and spent a good hour doing nothing but feeling her heart beat against his as she smoothed her fingers through his hair. He pulled the covers over both of them and felt her sleepily nuzzle his neck.

"Tired, honey?"

"A bit," she murmured. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you. For being here with me. Everything." She was out like a light, and really, it was stereotypically the guy who rolled over and fell asleep, wasn't it? He found it amusing and endearing though, and pulled the covers up to her chin. In sleep she looked as carefree and innocent as a child, long dark lashes fanning against her pale cheeks, one hand resting peacefully on the pillow by her head. All the pressures of the day, the sorrows that he'd seen so often shadowing her eyes, were gone, and he was glad.

Bending down, he kissed her forehead and left her to sleep before getting dressed and silently going downstairs to clean up the foyer. He was fairly sure he'd never walk out the front door of his house quite the same again.

* * *

Amy awoke feeling loose and just a little bit sore, like one might after an intense workout. But the bed wasn't hers, and the blanket covering her had Batman on it. It took less than a minute to orient herself, and then she blushed fiercely.

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

She remembered to pull the blanket up with her as she raised herself to a sitting position. Zach was sitting at his desk chair, dressed again and watching her with a little smile on his face. His eyes were soft green like new leaves and he had her clothes neatly folded on his desk.

"Hi," she murmured after a few moments. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"Don't be," he laughed slightly. "It's kind of cute. You hog the covers when you sleep."

"I wasn't dressed, and might have been cold," she said primly, lowering them now to prove a point. She saw his eyes skip down from her face, but they raised back up. "Was I asleep for long?"

"You took about an hour nap," he told her, walking over and taking a seat on the bed next to her. "I tidied up the foyer- I will never walk through it quite the same way again, by the way- and then came back up to see if you were awake or not. You weren't, so..." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "I suppose I should be thanking you aloud now that I've thanked you and God a few times to myself."

She giggled at that and let him hold her. "It was my decision to do what I did."

"So I see." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Will you regret it?"

"No," she gave him a long, bland look. "I don't do things lightly, particularly not things of this nature. I would not have entered a physical relationship with you were I not prepared for all the ramifications, including the emotional ones."

It was just like her and endearingly so that she'd put it in such formal terms. He stroked a finger down the nape of her neck. "You're so cute sometimes I don't know quite what to do with you."

"Hmmm... I suppose you could hand me my clothing," she mused after a moment. "I could get dressed, and we might have some lunch."

He did so, and never figured before that he'd derive pleasure from watching a girl fasten a bra. After she was dressed, she walked up to him, all earnestness and big, shining eyes, and took his hands in hers.

"I supposed that you figured out that I hadn't done this before," she ventured.

"Yeah," he nodded, stroking the back of her hand gently. "I'm honoured."

"I just want you to know that I wasn't planning on... well. For a long time. Relationships didn't interest me, because a lot of times they don't work out. I'm not the type of girl most guys pursue avidly in any case, so it was perfectly fine for me to go on with my life without partaking in this sort of thing."

"You don't have to explain things to me," he murmured, raising her hand to his face and kissing the delicate skin of her wrist. "I figured that, from the whole thing with your dad."

"I guess you did, even if you were all just ranting about popular fiction and Easter egg dye at the time," her lips curved in remembrance. "I just wanted to say that you're the only one I felt enough for to risk such a thing. I hope that doesn't intimidate you."

He wanted to say that it didn't, of course not, but there was no point in not being honest with her. "It does a bit," he confessed, still holding her hand to his cheek. "But not more than what I feel for you- what I've been feeling for you almost since the day that I met you in Biology and you coolly told me that your name was not 'honey'."

Both of them had to grin at that. It was almost a running joke at this time, and she gave him an indulgent sort of smile.

"I guess," she said in the tone of one making a grand concession, "all things considered, you may call me that. Sometimes."

He laughed and pulled her into a bear hug, and she giggled and held on. She smelled like girl shampoo, and he was sure he'd smell her when he went to bed that night. "I think I should do a victory dance or something."

"Or something," she agreed. "Now, lunch. Would you like to eat here, or go somewhere?"

"We can eat here," he told her. "If you don't mind sandwiches. Cooking is not one of my many talents."

"Sandwiches are fine," she smiled, and still holding onto his hand, they left the room together and went down the stairs.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: This story is very, very close to being done. Like, two or three more parts. Hopefully it's been fun while it lasted!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

Her shift had ended more than an hour ago, and the women's locker room was clean as a whistle. Amy sat at one of the park benches with a battered paperback copy of C. S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader and wondered where Zach was. It was more or less an unspoken agreement nowadays that he'd pick her up from work whenever their shifts didn't overlap, and then they'd spend some time together, going out to eat and so on before he dropped her off at her house. He knew quite well what time she got off work that day, but there was no sign of a red secondhand car covered in bumper stickers anywhere in the parking lot or on the adjacent street.

She didn't mind waiting; she had a perfectly good book to pass the time with, and if he got held up, she was sure it was for a perfectly legitimate reason. Sooner or later he was bound to call her and tell her that he'd be on his way.

As if on cue, her cell phone vibrated in her bag and she pulled it out, reading his name on the screen. "Hello, Zach."

"Hey, Amy? I'm... going to be a while." By the time he uttered her name, she could already tell that something was seriously wrong. His voice was breathless and verging on hysterical. "I'm at the hospital. I..." He took a deep, ragged breath, and Amy, face white as paper, dropped her book. "Kevin got hit by a car. I'm here with Mina because..."

"What? Kevin got hit by a car? Is he alive?" The sudden, sickening feeling of terror that had surged up like a tidal wave when Zach mentioned that he was at the hospital changed into something slightly less intense but no less dismayed. "Of course you're with Mina. Oh, she must be distraught. What happened?"

"FUCKING Dan Burright, that's what happened." She could almost hear Zach struggling to regain his composure. "Drunk as hell and high as a kite, per usual. He came screeching down my street just as Kevin and Mina got home from being out somewhere, and... oh God, Amy, he saw that car coming and threw her out of the way. He fucking threw her out of the way. I figured when he first arrived and started talking to Mina that he was out for a fling, and _he got hit by a car to save her life!_" There was a note of miserable guilt in his voice.

"Is Kevin alive?" Amy asked, clutching her phone anxiously.

"Yeah, he's alive, but he's unconscious and they took him away for a bit, and we had to all but drag Mina away. She's not been able to stop crying for the last hour. Oh, and his dad's on his way over, I guess, from New York. We don't know when he'll be in, exactly, it depends on how fast he can get a plane over. All Mina's family is here, and so's Miss Emmaline." He paused for a moment. "Your mom's the attending physician."

"Well, though I'm a bit biased, I can still say objectively that he's going to get the best care possible, all right?" Amy murmured. "My mom's good. Better than good."

"I know," Zach said quietly. "You take after her. And... look, I'm not sure how long I'm going to be. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about me," Amy said insistently. "You just be there for Mina. She needs you right now. Try to get her to stop crying, hmm?"

"Yeah, my shirt's completely gone. She's snuffled and snotted all over it," Zach managed to joke weakly, and Amy felt more reassurance from that than anything else. "Hey, if you want, call my house. My folks would be happy to give you a ride home since I'm kind of AWOL."

"Just stay where you are and do your big brother routine," Amy told him. A sudden thought occurred to her at that point in time. "What happened with Dan Burright? He got arrested, right?"

"No," Zach said flatly. "He flew on and smashed into the big old oak in the Elmers' yard at 70 miles per hour. He's dead."

"Oh." It did not come as too much of a surprise, and in a way it was almost a cautionary tale: the teen drug addict who came to an untimely end. Amy had never been fond of him, certainly, but for a moment she almost wished that things hadn't concluded that way and somehow, someday, Dan Burright could have seen the error of his ways. It was not to be, though. She sighed. "Mina must be taking everything very hard. You're good to be there with her."

"Ohh, his dad's here," Zach remarked. "Big business man type. Umm, you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'll talk to you later, all right? Call me if there's any change up there, all right?"

"I will, I promise," Zach answered. "I love you."

"I love you too. Hang in there." she told him quietly before hanging up the phone, a plan already formulating in her mind. Dialing 411, she got the phone number to the nearest taxi service and placed a call.

* * *

Zach, exhausted and too emotionally drained to do much more than wipe absent-mindedly at the huge wet spot on his shirt where Mina had buried her face, was sprawled in a waiting room chair when he saw Amy walking in carrying a few bags.

"Amy!" It had just been about five minutes ago that Dr. Mizuno had relayed the information that Kevin's injuries would be non-fatal, and it was only then that he felt secure enough to leave Mina's side. The violence and mortality of the car crash still at the forefront of his thoughts, he sprang up and enveloped Amy in his arms, all but crushing her and finding comfort in the warmth of her body, the scent of her hair. "How did you get here?"

"Cab, after a few brief stops," she murmured, carefully moving her parcels so that they wouldn't be caught between their bodies. "I brought you some food. It's horrendously unhealthy and full of sodium and preservatives, but you seem to like that sort of thing." The first thing she held out was a Taco Bell bag.

He opened it and took out the fat handful of Fire Sauce packets scattered on top of the food with an almost-reverent expression on his face. "You're a goddess."

"I still say that stuff is terribly bad for you," she cracked a faint smile. "And I brought Mina some stuff. A toothbrush and one of those neck-pillows for people who sleep in chairs and some toiletries. I know she doesn't intend to go home until Kevin wakes. Where is she?"

"I'll take you," Zach murmured, touched but not too surprised at her thoughtfulness. "Again, you're a goddess."

"She's my friend, too. It's the least I could do," Amy linked her fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. "Any news on Kevin?"

"Your mom says he's not going to die, so it's just a matter of when he wakes up. I should smack him around for worrying Mina so much," Zach mumbled, falling in step next to her. "But then she might be mad at me."

"She probably would, yes," Amy nodded, before glancing at Zach. "I guess you don't have to worry about his intentions towards Mina any more, though."

"Yeah," Zach answered. "It would've been better had he just, y'know, wrote a signed affidavit to that effect rather than jump in front of cars."

Amy rolled her eyes before pushing open the door he indicated. Wordlessly, she made a bee-line for the white-clad blonde sitting next to the hospital bed, her pale cheeks tracked with tearstains. Giving the other girl a hug, she handed over the bag of toiletries, knowing that no explanations were necessary.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Sorry about the delay, but... here is the last chapter before the epilogue! Hope everyone's enjoyed the ride :)

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

* * *

"So. How are you holding up?"

Zach and Mina sat together on the porch swing on the latter's porch, drinking lemonade compliments of Junior and Frankie's stand. The two youngsters, hawking their wares several feet away, had been thoroughly impressed with the accounts of Kevin's heroics, and were probably even now contemplating whether they should fit the New Yorker with a cape and shortsword comic book warrior style.

"I'm so glad he's home now," Mina murmured. It seemed automatic, to Zach's ears, the way she referred to Miss Emmaline's house as Kevin's home now. His best friend still had shadows underneath her cornflower blue eyes and there were Sylvester and Tweety bandaids covering the scrapes on her elbows and knees, but for the first time in days, her face was calm and he even caught sight of a smile now and again.

"He's doing okay, I take it?" Zach asked. He knew that Kevin's father had decided to stay over at Miss Emmaline's house until his son was better, and it had been somewhat interesting to observe the harried-looking businessman that he'd seen at the hospital wearing jeans and a polo shirt and mowing the lawn. "You practically live there these days."

"He gets dizzy now and again, because of the concussion," Mina murmured, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "God, I still can't believe that he'd just..." Even now, it cost her to mention the events of that night, and the breath she expelled was shaky. Zach wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"He's crazy about you. As he should be, of course," he said quietly. "I would've had to have some words with him otherwise."

"Oh, Zach, that's totally none of your business, and you know it," Mina chided him, but without much spirit. She rested her head companionably on his shoulder. "I've never felt this way about anyone before, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Zach's voice held a tinge of nostalgia; her admission seemed to close the childhood chapter of their acquaintance. Gone for good were the days when they'd play tag in the elementary school playground during recess or while away summer days drawing pictures with chalk on the sidewalk. They were both all but grown up, and knew what it was like to be in love. "It's all over your pretty little face."

"Same with you, though," Mina gave him a sidelong glance. "You and Amy are just perfect for each other, you know. And you make each other happy." The goofy grin that suddenly flitted over his face had her wrinkling her nose. "And maybe you should watch it just a bit with the smug expression. Stop making it so obvious that the two of you had sex."

"Don't be a hypocrite," Zach made a face at her. The night of the graffiti debacle, he'd gotten up to go to the bathroom and happened to glance out the window to see Mina, clad in nothing but a white nightgown that glowed like a beacon in the moonlight, clambering up the tallest magnolia tree in Miss Emmaline's yard towards someone's bedroom window. He still didn't fancy thinking about that particular scenario in any amount of detail. Shifting his thoughts, he ruffled her hair. "Love looks good on you. And while no one is good enough for you, I guess Big Bad NYC comes the closest. You can still tell him that if he makes you cry I'll hurt him. Somehow. Even if he's bigger than me."

"I think I'll just keep that message to myself," Mina said dryly, before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Amy's a lucky girl. If only you weren't completely insane and your hair didn't have a mind of its own, you'd be a great catch."

"She finds both those qualities endearing, I'll have you know," Zach declared with a note of faux indignation. "Amy is awesome and loves me just the way I am."

That managed to get a laugh out of Mina, and he dropped the mock-angry tone to laugh with her. She stared across the street at the house that Kevin had come to for the summer, and smiled softly. "I guess both of us are lucky, hmm?"

"Something like that, yeah," Zach agreed. "We deserve it, though. Blondes have more fun and all that."

"You're a dork," she said affectionately. She finished her lemonade and stood up. "I'm going to pay Kevin a visit. Want to come along?"

"Maybe some other time. I have to get to the pool so I can ogle my really hot girlfriend in her swimsuit and red whistle for a few before the end of her shift."

"I don't know how she puts up with you sometimes," Mina rolled her eyes, before reaching for him and giving him a long hug. "Okay. Go ogle and be a jerk and all that. Thanks, by the way. For everything the last few days."

"Least I could do for you, even if you're mean to me," Zach hugged her back before stepping away. "Go disturb your boyfriend's convalescence."

* * *

Outside Amy's window, the night sky was cloudless, stars flecking its expanse like snowflakes against an ink spill. It was late, and the first day of the new school year was tomorrow, and yet she was wide awake and immersed in a project of even more importance than academics.

On her desk, she had her laptop fired up and the laser printer running with quick, quiet efficiency. With dexterous hands, Amy used scissors to trim each page as it printed down to the appropriate size, and fitted the resulting pictures into a number of small frames as she smiled to herself.

Her cell phone, which for the last few hours had been connected to the laptop by a USB cord, vibrated on the desk, sending the computer's speakers into a brief crackle of interference. Glancing at the name on the screen, she smiled as she answered.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed by now, Zach?"

"Probably," came the glib reply. "You're not, either."

"I'm working on something," she told him as she clipped yet another picture down to size. "I'm planning on going to bed soon, though. I don't intend to start the new school year off by dozing off in class, and neither should you."

"Honey, the day you doze off in class is the day that the sun will rise from the west," he declared. "So what's this project?"

"Mmmm, you'll see the end result next time you're over at my house," she answered. "I got the idea several months ago, and I've been expanding on it all summer. I'm kind of sad that it's just about done- the summer, that is. It's been a very eventful one, hasn't it?"

"Yes, that would be the case. I can't say that I regret most of it, though. There were definitely a few highlights that will be remembered with great fondness for many years." The hint of mischief in his voice made her blush and remember that it was just a few days ago that she, with impulsiveness that still surprised herself sometimes, had seduced him in the backseat of his own car. She decided that Zach's impulsiveness must be rubbing off on her just a little bit, and was only mildly surprised to realize that she didn't mind.

"This whole year has been quite memorable," she murmured with a faint smile. "Tomorrow it will be a year since we met- since the day you so rudely mowed me down in Biology class."

"Hey, I didn't mean to, and I did apologize, and I was mostly nice to you for the rest of the year, and I didn't even throw any hissy fits over your German groupie," he protested.

"I know, and I forgive you," she laughed as she framed the last of the pictures. "Go to bed, Zach. You have AP Chemistry first hour tomorrow morning. Not a good class to sleep through. I hear that Mr. Ralston is pretty tough."

"So I've been told. Isn't it a good thing that I also hear through the grapevine that among my classmates in AP Chem is one outrageously beautiful girl whom I can stare at all through class while I'm supposed to be doing molarity calculations and stuff?"

"You are NOT supposed to stare at anyone during class," Amy said sternly, but she laughed after a moment. "Just don't mow me down again, hmm?"

"I'll try not to," he said in a preternaturally solemn voice. "Good night."

"I love you," she told him, and when he said it back, like always, her lips curved up in a smile.

Hanging up the phone, she picked up the first of several framed pictures. A photograph of her and Zach kissing at the airport after her visit to her father's had been sent to her phone from Mina, who'd taken it. Amy carefully hung it up amidst the collections of postcards and little paintings from her father on her wall before picking up another frame.

Raye's elegant, striking face peered back up at her, taken on one of their excursions in New York. There was a picture of Junior and Frankie selling lemonade. There was a picture of Mina taken at a Little League game. A picture of Kevin mowing Miss Emmaline's lawn. A picture of Serena as Alice in Wonderland and a picture of Darien making his class valedictorian speech. A picture of her mother in a white lab coat. A picture of Greg, even.

One by one she hung them up, warmer and candid and much more genuine than the brightly coloured postcards and the abstract artwork. After the final frame was up, she stepped back to survey the effect. Her father's predictable and periodic correspondence was broken up, in no discernible pattern, by photographs of those who loved her and cared about her. It wasn't organized the way it had been, every card precisely in place and equidistant from each other. Some of the photographs were sloppy, others downright silly.

She loved the effect, though.

Satisfied, she switched off the light and went to bed, making sure to set the alarm.

* * *

The next morning, first hour AP Chemistry class, found a tall, sandy-haired young man with irrepressible green eyes and an infectious laugh walking in hand-in-hand with a petite, blue-eyed pixie with dark hair. Their steps were evenly matched, their laughter harmonious. It wasn't quite history repeating itself, but neither Amy nor Zach seemed to mind.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: Here is the epilogue of Laws of Attraction, which is now completed! Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll get to writing R/J's story soon-ish, but in the meantime, I'll get around to posting other stuff that I've written and neglected to post.

To those who were curious, yes, I'll eventually finish the stories for Rei/Jadeite and Mako/Nephrite in this story arc as well, but I don't have a long fic planned for Serena/Darien. There may be a few odd one-shots here and there set in the same 'verse, so hope that helps! I'm primarily a senshi/shitennou writer, sorry!

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

* * *

&&TWENTY-FIVE-YEARS LATER&&

"NO. Absolutely NOT."

Two pairs of identical, vividly green eyes glowered into each other in the living room of a neat, well-appointed house in southern suburbia. The taller of the two was male, his sandy-blond curls sticking up in all directions and somewhat in need of a trim, his expression grim. The other was a girl of sixteen, her hair a shade darker than his and pulled back in a loose ponytail, her expression a study in teenage indignation.

"DAD. It's just a group of us going to watch _The House of Bad Faith_! YOU are completely blowing the situation out of proportion. Yes, there will be boys there. Yes, that includes Devin from my English class, but I fail to see the problem! Sylvia's been dating for AGES! HER parents let her!"

"Ava Elizabeth O'Connor, you are not allowed to date until you're forty-five, and that's final!" Zachary O'Connor, paternal protectiveness flashing in his eyes, folded his arms across his chest. "Teenage boys are NOT to be trusted. I was one once upon a time! Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, etc. etc. I know EXACTLY what they want and what they're thinking whenever they see a pretty girl, and I'll be damned if they put their grubby little paws on MY DAUGHTER!"

Ava prayed for patience, silently counted to ten, and gave a snort of disgust. "What does age have to do with it?" she muttered balefully. "Don't I catch you kissing Mom in every single room of the house at least three times a week?"

"Ahem." The sound of a throat clearing had both of them swiveling their heads, and like calm water smoothing over jagged rocks, Dr. Amy Anderson-O'Connor walked into the room, still wearing pale blue hospital scrubs. "I could hear the shouting all the way from the garage," she declared, smiling with not a little amusement at both her husband and her daughter. "Zach, it would be appallingly hypocritical- not to mention impossible- for you to forbid Ava from dating until she's forty-five. She's an intelligent young woman and would be out with a group of friends in a public place." Before Ava could stick her tongue out at her father, Amy pinned the older of her two daughters with a cool look. "And Ava, you're not to yell and speak disrespectfully to your father, and you have to understand that he has your best interests in mind. If you are to go on this movie excursion, you're to be home by half past ten. We'll discuss it later, all right?"

Ava made a vague noise of assent and left the living room, muttering something about calling her best friend Sylvia Lennox. Even as she jogged out, a tiny little pixie of a girl, waves of raven hair framing a heart-shaped face that was all big blue eyes, ventured in. "Does Ava really want to watch that movie? It looks really scary."

As always, eight-year-old Teagan O'Connor seemed to calm her father down just by her presence. Shy where her sister was outspoken, Teagan preferred drawing pictures and playing piano to her sister's favoured extracurriculars of Quiz Bowl and competitive swimming. Zach smiled and reached over to ruffle his younger daughter's hair, and Teagan giggled as he gave her a noogie.

"You don't have any boyfriends in third grade, do you, baby?"

"NO!" Teagan laughed at the very thought. "Boys are loud and they like gross things such as worms. Alexander Montgomery picked up a big fat one that was out because it rained this morning. Ewwww."

"Yes, yes, boys are ewww. You just remember that for the next thirty years. Ten," he amended, catching his wife's eye. "And yes, sweetheart, I guess Ava really wants to see that scary movie. It takes all kinds, you know."

"I guess," Teagan mused doubtfully. "Oh! I made you a present, mom! We made vases out of clay in art and Mrs. Morgan finished firing them in the kiln so we took them home today."

As Teagan dashed out to get it, Zach turned to Amy with a rueful look. "Why did I end up with all girls?"

"Well," Amy tucked her tongue in her cheek, "If you'd only paid attention in AP Biology, you would have recalled that the genes of the father determine the gender of the child. After all, it's the male that has XY chromosomes. You have no one to blame but yourself for that, and there's no point in being unreasonable about it to Ava."

"Argh! SO not fair. And of course I don't remember that stuff. If you will recall, honey, I was too busy being besotted with you in Bio to pay attention to everything all the time. It's good that I went into journalism instead of medicine like you. And for the record, I am not being unreasonable!"

Amy raised an eyebrow and bit down a chuckle. "If you will also recall, it's not always the boy's intentions that you have to worry about. I do believe it was my idea to jump you in your mother's foyer. AND if it makes you feel any better, Ava's feelings for Devin from her English class are, at least at this point, not the same as mine towards you."

Zach grumbled, but realized that he couldn't possibly win an argument about this topic with his wife. Rather fulfilling Ava's description of his behaviour, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her temple, the gesture's love and affection not diminished by twenty years of marriage. She smiled and smoothed her slim, capable fingers over his hair.

They'd been inseparable throughout the rest of their high school careers, and unlike so many other couples who'd gotten together in their teens, made it last even after the impulsiveness and inexperience of youth was gone. College found both of them attending the same university, often studying together much like before in one or the other's dorm room. Later on, when Amy went to Duke for medical school, Zach made a point to visit her at least once a week, his chosen field affording him ample opportunity to travel. He'd made sure that she took care of herself amidst the grueling courseload, and similarly, she would always make him little care packages of water purification tablets, first aid supplies, thermal blankets and the like whenever his job required him to travel to remote places.

He'd proposed to her the day that she graduated from medical school with high honours, the youngest in her class. And now, even after all the years and two children and the countless ups and downs, their love only grew stronger, steady as a heartbeat and deep as an ocean.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She was smiling up at him, the same slow, sweet smile that had stunned him the first time he'd seen it when he was a boy of seventeen.

"Mmm, just that I love you," he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze. "Even though you're most churlishly taking Ava's side for her little group date thing."

"She'll be fine," Amy told him. At that moment, their younger daughter bounded back into the room carefully carrying a slightly lopsided but charming vase glazed in shades of blue and green. Teagan set it on the coffee table and beamed at her mother.

"It holds water, so you can put flowers in it. I told Dad and he picked you some and here they are."

Through a sheen of nostalgic tears and a tidal wave of love, Amy could make out a small bunch of dreamy blue chicory flowers in her daughter's hand. Her eyes met Zach's over Teagan's head, and just then, everything was perfect and she had all she wanted in the world.


End file.
